iCan't Stand Her
by Basco57
Summary: I wrote this forever ago, and I'm too lazy to go back and correct the grammar. My suggestion, don't read, but whatever.
1. room 209 after hours

**I have nothing constructive to say here...uh, I don't own anything...including iCarly or its characters....

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**"Okay, Freddington, what's the damage?"

Freddington? That is a new one. I mean, I have gotten my fair share of Freddorks and Freddos, and even Fredilinas, but Freddington…that one is new.

"Three hours detention," I tell her solemnly.

"Hey! You got off easy. That's not so bad."

"Maybe not for you. You practically live in room 209." That's Mr. Martin's room and also the after school detention room. Though we are only halfway through our sophomore year, Sam has to hold the school's record for most time spent there.

She scowls at my remark. "At least I don't have to label my underpants." She crosses her arms over her chest with a triumphant smirk.

"Hey! I thought we agreed that when arguing, the underwear thing is not fair game!"

Sam laughs. "No, you decided that Fredward!"

It's my turn to scowl this time. "I'm late for class," I say, pushing past her toward the Biology room. She yells something after me, but I'm already too far down the crowded hall to hear it.

I bet you're wondering how I, Freddie Benson, managed to receive a detention. Well, today after second period like every other day, I pass Sam in the hallway. Not just any hallway…Coach Jeffreys's hallway. Now everyone knows that in Coach Jefferys's hallway, there is zero tolerance. Even Sam knows this. Any other time I see her during the day, she usually gives me some rude remark about my dorkiness or my attire or the dorkiness of my attire. Sometimes she will just yell at me for no particular reason (she needs some way to let off steam when teachers don't let her sleep in class). But when she is especially angry, she will shove me into a locker or quickly sucker punch me then take off the other way. Actually, she doesn't even have to be angry to do this. She sometimes causes me pain under celebratory terms. Like the time she shoved my face into a trashcan after giving me the news that she had gotten a D on her biology test (which was actually good news for Sam). I'm not really sure why these things happen. She's not an easy person to understand.

Anyway, what I was getting at is that none of these ever happens in Jefferys's hallway. Well, not normally. But today, after second period, we passed each other like every other day. We were the only two in the hallway, like every other day. I expected her to make a face or stick out her tongue, like every other day. She can't actually verbalize her hate for me at this time in fear that Jefferys will hear. He's not a fun guy to mess with. Even Sam knows her place around him. Sam! As in Sam-screw-authority-Puckett. The guy was the real deal when it came to discipline. Okay so back to my story. I was getting ready to sneer at her in return of the hateful glare that was I was sure would come when she laid out in midair, tackling me into a locker. I let out a surprised yelp as my books scattered across the floor.

"You told Cooper Smith that I like him!" She punched my face. "Didn't you?" She hit me again. I tried to answer her, but every time I opened my mouth she'd just punch me. Then suddenly she stopped beating me all together. She shot up and looked around attentively. She took off down the hall and around the corner. I stumbled over to where my books had fallen, and tried to gather them as quickly as my shaking hands would allow me. Sam didn't have to worry about her books. She stopped bringing them to class a long time ago. When I had all of my books, I darted down the hallway. And I almost made it out. Almost. Coach Jefferys burst through his door, saw me, and handed me a pink slip. Then came the yelling. The man is down right scary. He kept walking toward me through hiswhole lecture about how to behave in a hallway. Soon he had me backed up against the wall. His face was red, his bearded cheeks were quavering. All I could think was _Thanks a lot, Sam_. And that is how I found myself with three hours of detention after school on this dreadful Monday.

So after the final bell, I make my way to room 209. I enter the room and find myself caught in the middle of an all-out paper wad war that I'm not surprised to see Sam in the middle of. I duck and dodge my way over to her. I sit next to the desk she's standing on. Mrs. Rodman, the teacher on detention duty, is not in the room yet. I glance at my phone. It's 3:07. In two hours and fifty three minutes it would be six, and I would be free. I take a few deep breaths as I try to take in my surroundings. Aside from Sam, I don't know anyone in here. I usually don't associate myself with the detention regulars. Once again, aside from Sam. She defines the term _detention regular_. There is one kid I recognize. His name is TJ, and I think he's a junior. He and Sam have come to know each other pretty well because he's in here almost as much as she is. Almost. The two are in the middle of a paper wad crossfire when Mrs. Rodman walks in.

"Samantha Puckett! Get down from that desk!" Sam smirks, and jumps off the desk she's standing on.

She sits next to me and nods. "Freddo."

"Sam." I nod back. It was no surprise that she was in here as well. We have History together, and today when Mr. Ordway ordered her to stop harassing other students, she yelled something like"Arrrggghh…" in response. Mr. Ordway said that there were no pirates allowed in his classroom. So, naturally, Sam got up, took a bight of the sandwich on Mr. Ordway's desk (she had been eying it for awhile at that point), and left. She didn't return for the rest of the hour. And here she is now, in detention. Surprise, surprise…

"How you liking room 209 after hours?" She asks.

"Is that what you call detention now?"

"I'm actually sorry that I got you in here." She gives me a genuine smile. I can't believe I'm hearing this. It's almost too good to be true. "But not for your sake, for mine. Now I have to hang out with the techgeek for three hours." Ah, thought so.

"Oh, and I am just totally enjoying your presence," I scoff. I look at my phone again. "Just another two hours and forty eight minutes." Sam shakes her head and mouths 'pansy'. I decide to ignore that one. I'm still not exactly great at picking my fights with Sam, but I like to think I'm getting better. "Two hours and forty _seven _minutes now. That's only four of mom's Microscopic Bacterial Awareness videos. I can do this." Wait, did I just said that out loud. "Wow, I am a dork," I mumble quietly to myself.

Sam seems to pick it up. "Don't say that Freddie!" Okay, that caught me off guard. She lets me mouth soundlessly like and idiot (enjoying every second of it) before saying, "You're not _a_ dork. You're _the _dork." There's the Sam I know and sometimes love.

"I'm still not very happy with you. You do realize that it's your fault I'm here, right?"

"You have no one to blame but yourself, Benson. It's not my fault that you told Cooper I liked him."

"He's my friend! I'm sorry, but the guy needed a warning!"

"A _warning_?" She crosses her arms over her chest, the first sign that she's getting pissed off.

"Yeah, I mean, you can…uh…be a little…_foreword _at times." All the time.

"Whatever." She exhales angrily then glares back at me. "How did you even find out?"

"I swear Sam, you are the most unobservant person I have ever met! If you aren't teasing me or hitting me, you're just completely oblivious to the fact that I'm in the room!"

"So?"

"You told Carly about it yesterday after rehearsal. I was sitting on the couch with you guys the whole time."

"Oh, right," she says quietly. I can tell she's still mad, but for now she drops the subject. She reaches into her backpack and pulls out a plastic bowl with a blue lid. It's filled with waffles. She grabs a fork and knife from her pocket. She takes a bite, then stops. "I almost forgot!" She gets up and walks over to the bookcase in front of the room. Mrs. Rodman glances up at her, but by now she is used to Sam's crazy antics, and doesn't pay much attention. Sam rummages around the top shelf. She moves a few books, revealing a bottle of syrup. She sits back down. "For emergencies, of course." She shakes the syrup and pours it over the waffles.

"Of course," I repeat. Naturally, Sam would have a spare bottle of syrup in room 209. She takes a huge bite, and gives a satisfactory sigh.

I decide to finish up some of my homework. Sam then steals it and won't give it back until after she's copied it all. "Thanks Fredweird." She hands me back my history study guide, almost completely covered in syrup.

"Yeah, sure." I sink back into my chair, pulling out my phone again. It's 5:21. Just another thirty nine minutes, and I was out of here. To my surprise, nothing really bad had happened. I was expecting detention to be some life-changing event. I didn't think I could go back to being the same person, the same respectable student, after experiencing room 209 after hours. But other than the lack of Carly's presence, it hadn't been much different than any other time I've spent with Sam. It was the usual really; Sam ate, we fought, she smeared a sticky substance all over my things. I'm thinking _detention is not so bad_, when TJ stands up.

He says, "Mrs. Rodman, can I show you this magic trick?"

Mrs. Rodman sighs. "What is it this time?"

"Well, I just wanted to show you this trick I learned with these handcuffs. I bought em' yesterday. They are the kind that magicians use when they get out of traps and stuff. There's supposed to be a trick-lever or something-,"

"Okay, okay, go ahead. Just please stop bothering me. I have to get these graded before report cards go out."

TJ smiles. "Anyone want to test them out?"

Sam walks over to him and eyes the handcuffs. She then proceeds her investigation by sniffing them. I would find this action strange if it was from anyone but Sam. She finally comes to a conclusion. "I know who wants to try them on."

I guess TJ thought she was talking about herself, because at the same time she shoots me a sly smile and cuffs my right wrist, TJ cuffs her left. "There, dork boy can be the first to try-," She sees the cuff around her wrist and follows the chain links to my wrist. Her sly expression suddenly changes to one of total despair. "NO! I'm going to catch his nerd disease!"

I'm not exactly happy about this either. "Can you unlock us?" I ask.

"Don't worry guys," TJ says reassuringly. "These are made to come undone easily." He reads the directions on the back of the blue box they came in. Now almost everyone in the room is crowding around us. Most of them find this quite amusing. "Oh, I got it!" TJ exclaims. He grabs my wrist and turns it over, examining the bottom side of the metal ring. There is a tiny silver lever. He pushes it down. When nothing happens, he pushes it down harder. Then something does happen. _Snap_, the lever breaks off. "Shit," TJ says under his breath.

"No!" Sam and I say together. Sam falls to the ground dramatically, forcing my top half to bend over as out wrists are now attached.

"Don't you have a key or something?" I ask desperately.

TJ seems to lighten up. "Maybe." He rummages around inside of the box and his hands surfaces clutching a small golden key. He turns back toward us quickly, but his foot catches on Sam's arm where she still lay sprawled out on the floor. He falls to the ground in a heap. The impact causes him to drop the key. We all watch in horror as it slides across the room and into the air vent in the floor next to the filing cabinet.

Sam stands up slowly. Her eye twitched once, then a small strangled yelp escaped her throat.

"Oh no! No, no, no, no, NO!" This time I fall to the ground. But I can't force Sam's torso to bend like she had mine. So I lay on the ground, my right arm extended up into the air, attached to Sam's left arm.

She glares down at me. "This is no picnic for me either, Benson. Now get up!" She yanks me up into a standing position. Then she turns to TJ. "You better find us a way out, and fast!" TJ nods nervously. It was interesting to see the tall junior cowering in the small blond girl's presence.

"What if she gets hungry?" I ask. "What if I'm the only thing around at the time? What if she eats me?" My voice is cracked and desperate sounding. Sad thing is, I'm seriously concerned about this.

"I'm not gonna-," she pauses in thought. "I probably won't eat you. Just keep me fed."

Mrs. Rodman had been ignoring us up to this point. But when she finally saw the predicament we were in, she didn't seem to care. "It's six o'clock. Go home."

The room emptied quickly. I'm pretty sure TJ was the first to leave, eager to get away before Sam released her wrath. I stay behind and saunter over to Mrs. Rodman's desk, pulling a reluctant Sam along behind me. "Can you help us?" Sam is standing behind me with her arms crossed, forcing my right arm to be twisted behind my back and extended toward her. I'm doing my best to ignore the pain because I know there is no way I'm getting Sam to budge.

Mrs. Rodman pushes past me impatiently. "The janitors will be here after school tomorrow. They can help you find the key. For now, just go home and bother your poor mothers." She pauses. "Your poor, _poor_ mothers." After this thought, she seems to brighten up a little. She's humming as she leaves the room.

Sam and I walk to the bus stop in silence. At least she wasn't crossing her arms anymore. Now my hand hung comfortably at my side, but very uncomfortably close to Sam's hand. "So, I guess you can sleep on my floor," I suggest timidly. "I will just let my right arm hang off the edge of my bed. I think my bed's close enough to the ground." The bus arrives, and we clamber up the stairs, Sam leading the way. We receive a few amused stares from our fellow passengers as we make our way to the back of the bus, our handcuffs clinking with every step. Sam slides into her usual seat in the far left. The back of the seat in front of us has some letters scratched into the leather. It reads, 'Sam rules!' "Wow. Do you never get tired of defacing public property?"

"Nope." She pulls a pocket knife out of her bag, which is against the rules to carry at school but then again, I'm sure eating waffles during detention is too. She then begins to carve, _Freddie is a queer_ next to her earlier masterpiece. "I am not sleeping in your room."

"Where are we supposed to stay, your room? I'm sorry but I don't want your mad cow diseased-cat-type-thing to eat me in my sleep."

"You are very afraid of getting eaten." She smirks. "What makes you think your so tasty."

"Oh, I'm sure I'm more than satisfactory," I joke.

"Really?" She stops on the _q_ in _queer _and bites my arm.

"Ow! Sam! Ew! Stop!"

"You're not bad. Not the tastiest, but not bad."

"You are a psycho," I say, rubbing my throbbing forearm. She bites hard. It leaves a big purple mark.

She smirks again and finishes the word _queer _in the leather seat. "So if your too pansy to stay at my house, and I refuse to be around your insane mother for more than five minutes at a time, where are we going to sleep tonight?"

"How about we get this thing off," I shake the chain attaching our wrists, "before it comes to sleeping arrangements?"

"How? Are you volunteering to cut off your hand? Because I wont stop you-,"

"I'm not cutting off my hand. Maybe Spencer has something that could help us."

Sam seems to think this is an okay idea. She nods and within a minute, she is asleep. Or she appears to be. I know for a fact that when Sam gets bored with a person or conversation, she will play opossum and act like she's asleep. It's an easy way out of her least favorite activity, that being interaction with people. I smile as I too lean my head back and close my eyes. All to soon the bus comes to a stop in front of my building. I drag Sam off with me and we enter the lobby. Lewbert yells after us that there was no being handcuffed in his lobby. I swear he just makes up rules so he can scream. We make our way to the eighth floor. I immediately turn to my apartment as Sam reaches for Carly's doorknob. We are both pulled back abruptly by our cuffs before we reach our destinations and collide into each other.

"Carly's?" I ask, rubbing the spot on my head that hit Sam's.

"Your mom home?"

"Yeah."

"Carly's it is." Sam knocks a few times before she grows impatient and pulls a clip out of her hair. She kneels down (forcing me to go down as well) and picks the lock. She opens the door to see Carly standing right in front of us with a Peppy-Cola in one hand and the other outstretched to where the doorknob had just been.

"Oh please," Carly says, "just let yourself right in."

"Okay." Sam drags me into the living room.

Carly eyes follow us and she suddenly does a spit take. I wipe the sticky pop off of my face with a grimace. "Are you guys-oh wait, are those handcuffs?"

"Yeah," Sam says, falling back onto the couch. I do my best to remain standing. My arm is outstretched uncomfortably behind my back toward her again. She picks up the remote with her handcuffed hand, causing my arm to move up and down painfully every time she clicks a button. I finally drop down next to her.

"I won't even ask," Carly says, shaking her head slightly.

"Good," Sam says. "Hey, Spencer wouldn't be home by any chance, would he?"

"No, he's hanging out with Socko tonight. I think they're working on a car."

"Damn't," Sam huffs angrily.

"We we're hoping he could help us with our predicament," I tell Carly.

"You could catch him early tomorrow morning," Carly suggests with a shrug.

"_Early_? _Morning_? No thank you," Sam says.

"You are so pathetic Sam," Carly says sitting down. Then she laughs nervously. "I thought, well, I thought you guys were holding hands when you first came in here, but I see the cuffs now." Sam and I both look away from the TV, give each other a disgusted look, then turn to Carly.

"With nerd boy?" Sam asks. "Icky."

"I'd hold a giant squid's hand before Sam's." Though, in my mind, there wasn't much of a difference. But I don't think I'll put this last thought into words. I am going to be stuck to her all night,and I like my head right where it is just fine.

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**Okay, I realize that Sam could easily pick the cuffs, and the story would be over. Don't worry; that is addressed in a later chapter. So please, bare with me. Uh, review....help me out with your critiques and suggestions...thank you.... **

**Oh, and if you can't tell, this would fall under the catagory**


	2. the list

**Bonjour! Alrighty here it is...second chapter of my first fic, finally....This one is going to be a bit different than the other chapters, just to let you know...uh, you'll see what I mean.  
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**Oh, and i most definitely do not own iCarly....trust me, if i did Sam and Freddie would've hooked up by now and the show would be over....  
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**Hey. It's Freddie again. So I just thought I'd update you on my current _situation _with Sam. You know, the handcuffs thing. Well, when we went back to school on Tuesday, the janitor hadn't had any luck finding the key. So we went to see Spencer after school. He said he'd try to help us, but somehow had only managed to set the cuffs, a jar of peanut butter, and himself on fire. And here we are, late Friday night, still cuffed together. It's been a very long four and a half days. Don't worry. Sam already beat the crap out of TJ for the whole thing. But I'm really getting uneasy now. I mean we've tried and failed so many times to get out of these things. And trust me when I tell you that life is not easy being handcuffed to Sam.

Okay, so I decided to make list. I'm a list sort of guy I guess. I mean, I've grown up around my mom's constant list making and checking. The _getting ready for bed _and _getting ready for school _check lists. Then there's the list of _words I can never use _(which I'm not allowed to read either)_._ And, of course, the list of _steps to a tick bath._ But I guess her list making has rubbed off on me because I keep finding myself making the same list in my head over and over. So I decided to put It down for you. Here it is, _the list of things that are negatively affected by my being handcuffed to Sam Puckett. _

**1. The position in which I sleep at night. **

It's getting late on the first night we're spending handcuffed together. Carly offers to let us sleep at her house, as Sam was not too keen about sleeping at my place, and I wasn't too thrilled about having her. When my mom comes over to collect me later that evening, she practically passes out when she sees Sam and me, handcuffed. She refuses to let me stay over at Carly's. She wants to be near me just in case she has to defend me from an angry (or hungry) Sam. Obviously Sam is pissed about this. When she's arguing with my mom, she keeps crossing and uncrossing her arms then throwing them up in the air. She uses a lot of hand motions in an argument, which leaves my right arm throbbing in pain from being flailed around for so long after Sam finally gives into my mom. If there is another woman in my life who is more stubborn than Sam, it's my mom.

So here we are at about one o'clock in the morning on Tuesday. I usually would've gone to sleep hours ago, but Sam insists on watching the rest of the MMA (mixed martial arts) fight on TV. When she finally agrees to turn it off, we immediately begin bickering about our sleeping arrangements. I suggest she sleeps on the floor.

"Why don't you sleep on the floor, Freddork?"

"Because it's _my _bed!"

"Oh yeah? Well, this is my fist!" Okay, so it looks like she won't be on the floor. But there is no way _I'm _sleeping on the floor. So to much dismay, it is decided that we will share the bed. I mean, it _is_ a queen-sized bed. There should be plenty of room for both of us. And Sam is building a wall of pillows down the middle, grumbling about catching nerd disease, so we will at least be somewhat separated. It can't be that bad.

So I'm waking up the next morning to something soft brushing against my face. I like the feeling, until I realize what it is. I push Sam's hair away, seeing that she has completely turned 90 degrees. Her feet are now hanging off the side of the bed, and her upper body is weighing down on mine. No wonder I was having trouble breathing. I shove her off, and she stirs awake, but only for a minute. Then she retreats further under the covers, going back to sleep. I have an interesting time convincing her to get up. I end up bribing her with a ham and cheese sandwich.

**2. My bathroom schedule. **

It's that magical time after fourth period when I already have my books for my next class and I don't have to make the usual trip to my locker all the way on the top floor. Sam has nowhere to go either, as she never brings anything to class. The teachers are usually so shocked at the fact she showed up that they don't really care if she has her books. So I find myself everyday in between fourth and fifth period with five whole minutes to spare before I need to head to class. I usually fill this time by eating my lunch (if I don't Sam will eat it in the cafeteria) or flirting with Carly and yelling at Sam. But some days, like today, I need to use this time for a restroom break. So I make my way to the boys bathroom, then I remember Sam.

"Don't even think about it, Fredward."

"Ah, _Sam_. I really have to go."

"You're gonna have to hold it then, boy. I am not going in there. Urinals…yuck." After that I had to just learn to hold it, no matter how painful. There was no way Sam was going in there, and there was no way I was going to make her. But I found myself in the girl's bathroom numerous times, standing outside her stall, turning red every time a girl passed by snickering. Sam's logic behind this is, "Well, boy's bathrooms are grosser than a girl's. Plus, you can't make a lady hold it. That's not very gentleman like." So I tell Sam that I'm not making a _lady_ hold it. Then she proceeds in hitting me. Hard. So now I have to go into the girls bathroom at least once a day. Aside from the sheer embarrassment, it's not so bad. I mean, it smells like daises in there and I can't believe you girls have a couch in your bathrooms! Plus, Carly always joins us, helping me through the experience.

**3. My food/drink intake. **

Now that I'm not allowed to use the restroom at school, I have cut back on my liquid intake. I hardly drink anything anymore in fear that I might have to go through uncomfortable process of holding it all day. And as for the food, well, Sam eats a lot. I mean _a lot_. I always knew she loved food just from the time I'd spent with her at Carly's. But she literally eats all the time. Every evening we are at my house, there is constantly some item of food in her hand. It's like non-stop. I'm almost as impressed as I am disgusted. I've seen her eat more than a grown man in one sitting. And I find myself wondering where it all goes. But anyway, my mom can't afford to double the money she spends on groceries, so I'm trying to cut back. But sometimes when I pass up seconds, Sam just takes this as a 'more for me' type scenario. It's really funny to watch my mom when she watches Sam eat. Her expression is a mixture of repulsion, shock, perplexity, and aw. Actually, this is her expression when watching almost anything Sam does. I'm becoming very used to it, now that Sam is sort of living with us (hearing that makes me shudder).

**4. The density of my wallet. **

Everyday after school, Sam, Carly, and I hit up the Groovy Smoothie. One day, in a fleeting moment of gallantry, I offered to pay. Ever since then it's become an expectancy of me from Sam. Carly pays for her own now, but not Sam. Some days I don't give in to her not-so-empty threats, but then she usually ends up stealing mine and consuming it as quickly as possible anyway. Then, to add to the decreasing size of my wallet, there's the compromise we came to about whose classes we would attend. This conversation took place on the first day we spent cuffed.

"We need to figure out whose classes we are going to skip today because, obviously, we have to be in the same place at the same time."

"Which is getting very old," Sam adds. "How about we go hang out at the Groovy Smoothie and forget about it."

"Unlike _you_ Sam, _I _actually aspire to be something someday, and I am not going to skip school."

"Okay! Fine! Cool it dork. It was just a suggestion." We continue down the hallway, lifting our handcuffed arms when necessary to let someone pass under. "How about we just follow your schedule. We don't want Fweddie Weddie missing his precious Advanced Placement classes, now do we?"

"What's the catch?" There had to be a catch. Sam didn't just go along with what's best for me without there being a catch.

"Do you really know me that well?" She laughs. "I was thinking, we avoid going to Stan to help us work out a schedule for both of us and go wherever your little heart desires...under one condition." Oh, Stan is our principle. Sam has issues with calling authority by their titles. Well, she just has issues with authority in general. "You have to buy me lunch everyday."

I groan. But there was no way around this offer. Even if my teachers did allow me to catch up outside of the classroom so we could go to some of Sam's classes, it wouldn't be the same. Some of those Advanced Placement classes I was taking we're very demanding and required me to actually be in the class. So, reluctantly, I accepted the agreement.

**5. My punctuality. **

It was nice that Sam had agreed to go to all of my classes. But, she still had to _go_ to all of my classes. If she wasn't complaining about all of the 'nerd talk' that went on in my AP classes, or arguing with the other students and/or teachers, she would be sleeping. It was rather difficult concentrating on our tests with her loud snoring. So, she got moved out into the hall, and I had to go along with her. For the rest of the week, that's where I sat during Algebra 2 Trig, in the hall next to a snoring Sam. Then there was my perfect record of never being late to any class. Yeah right! Being handcuffed to Sam, I could kiss that goodbye.

"Would you _please_ move a little faster?" I ask, exasperation just oozing out of my voice.

"Settle down Fredweird! I'm going as fast as I can." I know for a fact she's not. She dragging her feet on the ground, and moving slower than I thought possible.

"_Sam_! I'm going to be late! Again!"

"Jeeze man, it's not the end of the world." She is still keeping her slow pace. She's pulling absentmindedly at our handcuffs, a habit she's learned over the course of the past few days. At first it was an earnest attempt to break the things, but they are still completely intact. "You're such a spas, Benson."

I wonder if she is walking this slow to annoy me or if she is actually convinced that she is moving as fast as she can. I really don't know, I mean, it's _Sam. _Who knows? But what I do know is that I have to be on time for Physics today or I have detention. And what happened last time I got detention? That's right, I was permanently attached to my personal worst enemy. I had made the assumption from that point: detention = bad. I was not about to get it again. I scoop Sam up into my arms, and run through the remaining hallways to my next class. I usually wouldn't dare touch or grab Sam like this, but adrenaline is taking over at this point. Sam must be in shock or something, because she doesn't struggle at first. But after we turn the first corner she begins pounding on my face and chest yelling at me to set her down. We must be an interesting site to onlookers, as they are all stopping and staring. I can see the Physics room just up ahead. It's the final stretch, and I struggle to hold on to Sam. I probably have about three second before the bell. I'm almost there too. But then Sam lands a square punch on the side of my head which causes me to stagger and fall. Sam comes crashing down on top of me. Our momentum was still traveling forward though, and we slide the last few feet toward the classroom. The bell rings right as we cross through the open door from the ground. Everything is silent at first. I stand up, awaiting the teacher's punishment. Then suddenly the class breaks out into cheers. Sam smiles brightly and bows to the whoops and hollers of our classmates. I drag her to the back of the room and sit her down in the desk next to mine. She's enjoying the aftermath of our dramatic entrance so much, she doesn't even get angry with me about carrying her. I just hope she doesn't expect my new way of getting to class to be a usual thing, like the smoothies after school.

Ok, so there you have it. My list. And I could keep going, believe me, but i won't. I thought it was only fair if I make a list of changes Sam has to go through because of our little _situation_. I'm really struggling here though. There is no way there are five. But I did think of one. So here it is, _one way in which Sam is negatively affected by the handcuffs. _

**1. How she carries her tray at lunch. **

It is the norm for Sam to carry her lunch tray in her left hand while finding a table. But, as her left hand is attached to my right, it makes this a little difficult. So she now carries it in her right hand. She also grumbles and complains about this more often than not, non-stop, all day. I am very sorry to you, Sam.

Alright, there. Are you seeing the picture I'm painting here? Anyway, Sam finally shut off the MMA fight so I'm going to bed.

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**Mmmmkay there it is, chapter two, I'll have chapter three up soon.....umm, review, share your knowledge, critique me please. Oh, and I'm definitely open for suggestions if you have any ideas....alright im outy.... **


	3. pirates prevail

**Okay chapter three. Umm, before you read this you may want to know that bojutsu is the martial art at staff wielding. Warning: ninja violence ahead....**

**Yeah, i don't own iCarly...blah, blah...Heh. You know the drill..... **

**Oh and Sam's PoV by the way...Heh. It's interesting.  
**

Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it now. I can't believe you guys are actually listening to Freddie. You should know that dork's so full of crap. He makes it sound like switching my tray-carrying-hand is no big deal. Well, it's a big deal. For sometime now, I've grown used to the comfort of having my left arm bent into tray-holding position as my right arm swings comfortably at my side when I walk through the cafeteria. So Freddo has to watch some MMA fights. Big deal! They're good for him! The boy could use some testosterone! _Pansy…_ And as for the bathroom thing, what does he expect? He really wants me to go into the boy's bathroom? No thank you. While my short time being employed at the Chilly Bowl, I once had to clean the boys bathroom. I had nightmares for a week, and it takes a lot to give me nightmares. And to gross me out, for that matter. And as for his complaints about "punctuality" (he uses such dorky words), I like to take a slow pace in the hallway to make sure that I'm not rushing myself and I have time to clear my thoughts. And it is always fun to watch Freddie flip out. Heh…he's such a spas. Okay, so its Friday and we're about ready to start iCarly.

"SAM! Hurry up!"

"I don't work well under pressure!" I yell back at the dork. We're in Carly's bedroom. I'm applying the final touches to my pirate outfit. Then I decide to take my time polishing my silver peg leg , again, to see if I can get a rise out of Freddie. It works too. I hear him mumbling angrily to himself as he stomps his foot impatiently. The little baby.

"Sam! We go live in less than a minute! Now let's go! I'm so tired of having to wait for you! I can't stand you sometimes-," I decided then would be a good time to suddenly finish, and unexpectedly pull him out of the door (with great force, I might add).

"Chill out. What'cha yellin' for?" I say as I drag him hurriedly to the studio. He trips over my feet and goes down. I grab onto the doorknob to the glass iCarly door and manage to stay up. "Hurry up Fredilina! We go live in less than a minute," I yell at him, trying to hide any signs of joy or humor in my voice. I turn into the studio to see Carly waiting for me. She's fully dressed in her black ninja outfit. I drag Freddie in behind me.

"Okay thirteen seconds," he says, picking up his camera and setting it on the tripod. He was going to have to be in the shot with our being handcuffed and what not. I suggested earlier that we put a bag over his head as not to scare our viewers. I mean, children watch this show!

"Wait!" I shout. "I just want to go grab my sandwich. It's on the counter in the-,"

"No Sam," Carly and Freddie say simultaneously. Simultaneously is the only word I use that's longer than four syllables (this is an important rule I keep so I stay convinced that I'm not a victim of nerd disease). It was also the only vocab word I got right one my last English test. I try to use it at least twice a day.

"Alright. In five, four, three, two-,"

"Hello, wonderful viewers. I'm Carly!"

"And I'm am Captain Sam!" I pull my eye patch over my eye for effect.

"And this is iCarly!" we say simultaneously. There, that's twice already. I'm good for the day.

I step in front a Carly. "A show where we have to use a fire extinguisher way more often than your average household!" I can't see Carly, but according to the script she should be behind me nodding gravely. _Gravely, _that sounds like gravy. Remind me to get some gravy after this.

"Today we've got a special treat for you! Sam and I, as you can see, are not dressed as normal people normally dress at a normal time in a world where the norm is normality."

"What Carly means to say is that she's a ninja and I'm a pirate. And we are going to answer a question one of our viewers, Nard-dog57, asked us last week."

Carly cut in. "Who would win in a fight? A pirate, or a ninja?"

"Pirate!" I yell.

"No way! Ninja!"

"Oh, sounds like a challenge, Shay!"

"Oh, it is Puckett!"

And thus, the fight begins. It's staged, sadly. Not that I want to hurt Carly or anything, it's just when I get into the old pirate suit, it's a crazy sensation. Like when the Green Lantern puts on his ring, and get's those powers. Yeah, that's me with a peg leg and a glue-on beard. So we're tearing up the studio right now. I'm at a bit of a disadvantage being handcuffed to Freddie. But he's being a good sport, flying around wherever I fling my left arm. Don't get me wrong, he's still a nub, just a good sported nub. I bet this scene looks really funny. See we didn't mention anything about me and Freddo being all chained together. It must look interesting seeing Carly as a ninja fighting me as a pirate handcuffed to the tech producer. Heh. Anyway, Carly has a bo staff that she's swinging around. I only have a plastic sword. I got jipped. So the pirate suit side of me tells me to steal the bo staff away from her. She swings it at my face, and I'm supposed to duck and then counterattack with my sword. But instead I catch the long stick and pull it out of her hands. Then, as though I've had bojutsu lessons my whole life, I begin twirling the tapered staff around above my head. Then I bring it down hard on the ground by Carly's feet. She shrieks loudly. As she retreats to the far corner of the studio, I smirk at the camera. I'm telling you...magical pirate suit.

"Okay," Freddie says nervously. "Umm…I guess we have our winner." He glances at Carly, who shrugs with an annoyed expression. The original plan was for both of the characters we were portraying to suddenly get hungry for tacos and leave the studio together. That way we wouldn't have to directly answer the question, and it's an all around feel-good ending. But I'm not so great with feel-goods. I'm more into the endings that take care of bidniz. "I guess a pirate would win then Nard-dog57. Right, well, congratulations Sam," Freddie continues.

"That's _Captain _Sam to you, ya scallywag!" I point my sword up at his nose.

"Okay," Carly pushes the sword away from the scared little techgeek. "Time to put the costumes away, before Sam hurts someone." Ha, yeah right. There was now way I was taking this bad boy off. And I tell Carly that too. She decides not to argue with me this time, probably because I'm still holding the bo staff. So we move along to our next segment. "Next, we wanted to ask you guys-,"

"Our faithful viewers," I say.

"-if you have any suggestions for a certain _predicament _Sam and Freddie are in." She shakes the handcuffs.

"You, see," Freddie begins to explain. "Sam and I were accidentally handcuffed together, and that was on Monday." He's standing up straight with his shoulders back, and his eyebrows are waggling as his voice rises and falls to emphasize certain parts, just like we learned in Speech class. He remembers, of course. He's a nerd like that. "We lost the key, so now we are trying to figure out a way to get them off."

"So if you guys have any suggestions, please, send em' in." Then I decide to fall to my knees. "Please! Please, please. I don't know how much longer I can go before I catch nerd disease. _Please. _I've already used a six syllable word twice today. I can feel it taking over!"

"I bet that word was 'simultaneously', huh Sam?" Freddie asks.

I stand up. "We do not need you're snootiness, Fredward."

"Yeah, well we don't need your _Sam_ness!" Whoa, Samness. This is epic. Freddwardo actually came up with something cool.

"You only wish you could handle my Samness!"

"Oh really!? Well-," I would never find out what is lame comeback was going to be. I suddenly felt a cold, wet sensation on my face. I guess today Carly was just a little bit more pissy than normal, and decided it was time to bring the red bottle back out. After three squirts in the face, each, we stop yelling. Freddie think he'll get slick and makes a face at me while Carly's back is turned.

"I saw that, Freddie," she says. "Come one guys. Could we please act like we are sixteen here?"

"Sorry Carly." The stupid nub is turning red. It is so pathetic. Anytime Carly ever calls him out on something, he gets all embarrassed and sad. Then sometimes he grovels at her feet for forgiveness. I'm glad it wasn't that one this time. Though I _am _in the mood to knock some sense into someone (literally _knock_). Hmmm, _grovel. _That also reminds me of gravy. Anyways, I'm outy…gonna go finish my sandwich now. With any luck, next time you hear from me, I won't be handcuffed to a nub. Peace!

**Heh. Alright, thank you for reading this...umm...yeah i don't know. The pirate/ninja thing was kinda random...so umm, please review. Give me some suggestions if you have any. Also critiques are super fun....oh, and i was wondering if someone could help me out. I decided it might be interesting to try to right from Sam's POV, but i don't know if i really captured her character. Like, was she _too_ mean to Freddo? it almost sounds forced to me....but anyway just let me now what you think....Peace!**


	4. hustling firemen

**Alright, here you go. I love this chapter...I'm not sure why...uh, okay. Enjoy.**

* * *

It's Saturday night. Sam's turn to shower. So I'm blindfolded, leaning against my sink, which is very close to the shower in my cramped bathroom. I'm extending my arm out toward the shower curtain. Sam's in there now. She is singing, rather loudly, a verse to some 50 Cent song. After she raps a few choice words in a not-so-nice phrase, I yell, "Sam! Cut that out! My mom is gonna hear you!"

"Dude, you are killing my crunk vibe, man!" she yells back. But she obeys, believe it or not, and things are silent. A few minutes later, another sounds comes out of the shower. It's a low, rumbling, snore. How could she fall asleep in the shower?

"Sam!"

She answers with another snore.

"SAM!" Another snore. I swear, you have a better chance breathing life into a rock than waking a sleeping Sam. I take off my blindfold. I reach past the shower curtain, hoping maybe I'll be able to smack her head or something. But I quickly pull back when I realize what I'm doing. What if I smack the _or something_ part? This is a question asked many times by those of us guys whose best friends are girls. _Yikes_. I don't even want to think about what she would do to me if that did happen. But I am thinking about it, and I'm smiling. Why am I smiling? I should not be smiling. I just imagined her sucker punching me in the gut. Why do I have a stupid smile on my face? But in the scene in my head, the angry wrinkles on her nose are just so cute, and she's nak-never mind. Sorry, teenage hormones getting the best of me. Ew' wait, Sam? Okay, Freddie, get a hold of yourself man. It's Sam. I'm panicking here now, and my first instinct is a learned response. So I call out the door to my mom. No better way to cool teenage hormones than by hanging out with Mom. She hurries into the bathroom. She's always excited to help me out in a time of need.

"What is it? Did Sam bite you, Freddie dear?"

"No, she fell asleep. I can't wake her up." I gesture toward the shower.

Mom holds up her hand. "Say no more." She looks at the shower. "Turn around Freddie."

I hear the shower curtain being wrenched open, then Sam yells something like "Ahhrrgguuhh…wha-what are you doing in my dream?" Then the curtains are pulled shut again.

Mom wipes her hands together. "Fredward, I am very proud of you for choosing to call on me for help. Have you been using that decision-making list I gave you?"

"Sure Mom. State problem, evaluate alternatives, and make the decision. Check, check and check."

She beams at me one more time before leaving the bathroom. Then I hear Sam's muffled voice from the other side of the curtain, "Be a total nub, check." She suddenly pulls hard on the cuffs, forcing me forward and causing my head to collide with the metal rod supporting the curtains. "You just had sick Crazy on me, didn't you?"

"Look, I'm sorry." I rub my throbbing head. "I didn't know she was going to do that. I bet that was kind of weird, and I really am sorry. "

"Oh, weird doesn't even begin to explain it," Sam growls.

--------------------------------------------

It's Sunday afternoon. I'm sitting on the Shay's couch, reading the feedback from our last iCarly. I've been at it for a few hours now. We've had more suggestions for the handcuffs situation than I thought we had viewers. But there has really only been a handful of logical ones. We tried greasing our hands down and pulling, but the cuffs proved to be too tight for this. Then we (well, Sam) tried smashing them with a hammer. But she only managed to slightly flatten the chain. I just opened up a message from someone called SAMfan1. And I know that with someone who has sunk low enough to give themselves a name glorifying Sam, there can't be any good suggestions. But curiosity gets the best of me. My first whim proves to be correct. The message tells me that I should be happy to be chained to the amazing, ninja-killing, hot (SAMfan1's wording, not mine) Sam. But if I really wanted to get out I should just cut off my arm. Wow, thanks for the help, SAMfan1. I don't like dealing with the Sam fans...they tend to be a bit like their hero.

I feel Sam stop her incessant pulling on the handcuffs. I didn't realize how used to this action I have gotten. It feels weird when she stops. I glance over at her. She's got her feet on the couch, her knees bent. There's a giant bowl of pudding on her stomach that she's spooning it out with an ice cream scoop. There's chocolate all over her mouth, and forehead. I don't know how it got there. I guess Sam just gets real aggressive with chocolate pudding. She's been watching the same Girly Cow marathon while I've been working on the site. She sighs and sets the empty bowl on the coffee table. She pats her stomach and nestles into the side of the couch. She looks warn out. There are bags under her eyes. It's probably because she still isn't sleeping comfortably in my bed. Though she doesn't complain about it anymore.

She's still wearing the same purple shirt as she was the Monday we got handcuffed, six days ago. So am I. The cuffs wouldn't allow us to take them off, but my mom has been sure every morning to spray us down with some magical germ-killing, disinfectant stuff that is probably not even legal in the US. You may not think my mom would do anything illegal, but she means business when it comes to hygiene. Anyway, I don't know why, but I'm feeling pretty sorry for Sam. I am coming to see a few more ways she was negatively affected by our situation. The most prominent being her mom.

She misses her mom. Well, maybe _misses_ is not the right word. I know for a fact that Sam does not really _enjoy _her mom. But I don't know how else to explain it. It's like Sam's worried about her or something. Worried she won't be able to take care of herself while Sam's gone. I've offered numerous times to go with her to check in on her mom, but Sam really doesn't want me to come. I'm not sure why, and I'm not going to press the subject any further for Sam's sake. I don't know all of the details, but I know Sam's home life is pretty messed up. So, now I have this weird sensation of sympathy and concern for Sam that I'm not used to feeling. It's really weird. I mean, she just saw me staring at her then stuck her tongue out at me then turned back to the TV, and I'm not even angry with her! I need to get away from her fast before I get used to this strange feeling. I start looking through the suggestions a little more earnestly.

"Hey! This is actually a pretty good idea!"

"What is it, dweeb queen?"

Even with my sudden and strange compassion toward her, I still have to act natural. "I do not appreciate being called _queen_."

"And I don't appreciate being handcuffed to you, but you don't see me complaining."

"Actually, I have seen you complain about this. More often than not, you're complaining about this!" Okay, so that retort felt pretty real. I might be all right after all.

"Fine! Whatever. _Princess_ dweeb then. Now what is it?"

I sigh angrily. "Someone suggested that we just go to the local fire station and see if they can help us out."

"Yeah," she says sitting up. "I guess they have all sorts of tools and axes and stuff. We should have thought of that." Then she seems to remember something. "Wait, no. We can't go. I-I…we just can't go."

"What? Why not? This is it. This could be the solution!"

"I know," she says. She seems genuinely tempted, but there is still something holding her back. "But I can't, really."

"Oh, we're going, Sam. Whether you like it or not, we're going." I text Carly to tell her what we are heading off to do. About a half an hour ago, Carly went upstairs to take a shower. She took a chair with her, so I'm guessing she'll still be in there for awhile. "Come on Sam, let's go." She doesn't move. She doesn't even look at me. Alright, it is time to put my newly gained knowledge to the test. You see, last week when I was late for Physics and I had to carry Sam down the hallway, I realized something important; I am bigger and stronger than Sam Puckett. You may be wondering why it took me so long to figure this out. Well, I guess it was only about half a year ago when I really started growing, so I'm still not completely used to it. But I'm a good foot taller than Sam now. I think maybe I never really took this in because since we met in sixth grade, she was always the aggressive one and I was always the one running away from her. That's the way it worked. It was the status quo, if you will. But after that little experience when I overtook her in a time of desperation to get to class, the status quo has changed my friends. So I forcefully stand her up. I can tell she is putting no effort into using her legs, so I hold her there until she finally gives in.

"We are not going to the fire station!" She has to look up at me to yell, and I'm loving it.

"Why not?" She attempts to fall back on the couch again, but I stop her. I keep a firm grip on her left shoulder.

"I can't tell you! Just trust me!"

"Trust you? Are you kidding me?" I laughed out loud. "That's what you said when you told me you knew gerbil CPR!"

"That was four years ago, Benson! Just let it go!"

"Scampers is not here with us today because of you!" I know this is a little childish to bring up, but it does the job and makes her angry. She huffs loudly and crosses her arms. "We're going." I pick her up for the second time, but instead of cradling her in my arms, I sling her over my shoulder.

She kicks and protests, but I only tighten my hold. She still doesn't give up. That's stubborn Sam for you. She is pounding on my back, and flailing around wildly. But she's not the only one who can be stubborn. I march down the eight flights of stairs, not letting up on my grip at all. We make it to the lobby, she's still struggling. Lewbert sees us, and starts in with his usual, "Hey, there's no carrying people against their will in my lobby!"

I tighten my hold on Sam as I stride out to my car. I got it a few months ago, for my sixteenth birthday. It's nothing much, just a rusty 1981 Chevy Malibu. But she runs pretty good. I throw open the passengers side door and push Sam inside. Then I realize I can't really go around the car because of the cuffs, so I crawl over Sam into the driver's seat. She then tries to make a break for it. But she forgets that she'd have to pull me along too. Believe me though, she tries. She's up off the ground, her feet up on the side of the rusty door frame. And she's pulling at the handcuffs with all her strength, trying to force me out of the car. But I don't move. Not even a little. See, along with height comes weight. It's all apart of growing. She finally gives up with a frustrated sigh. She kicks the side of my car before getting in.

"Careful! Don't take this out on her!"

"Excuse me? On _who_?" She slams her door shut.

"My baby." I say, petting the dashboard fondly. I put the key in the ignition and turn it. I have to repeat this process three more times before she roars to life.

"How many times do I have to tell you, you're car is a dude, not a chick."

"How could you even know that?"

"I just know. And _his _name is Batman, not _baby_." She says the last word like it has a bad taste or something. She is still pretty angry that I had gotten a car, and she hadn't. Nor will she for a while. I found this matter quite laughable, that is, until I realized I would be her personal chofuer from then on. And because she has no car of her own to name, she has to make up for it by naming mine. I guess it's currently Batman. She changes it about every other week. One of my personal favorites, about a month ago, was the Shag Wagon. It was Sir BreakDownALot for awhile too.

"Put your seat belt on," I order.

"No," she says. Since she can't physically do anything to me at this point, she is going to try to be as defiant as possible. Classic Sam.

"Hey, my car, my rules. You can pick the music, just put your seat belt on." She pretends to not have heard me. "Seriously Sam! What if I crash and you go flying out the window?"

"What do you care, Freddork?"

That one kind of stung. I don't know why either. "I-I'd care." And I actually think I would. She looks over at me. I'm expecting a glare or something, but she just looks at me. There is a small smile playing at the corner of her lips, but quickly changes into her signature smirk. Luckily, I am able to recover quickly from my little realization. "But only because you would flop around in here, and probably kill me." I hope she picks up my joking tone.

I'm not sure if she does or not, but she pulls her seat belt around and I hear it click. She takes me up on my offer and flips on the radio. She turns it up eight notches when a song she likes comes on. So we're rocking out to 'My Life Would Suck Without You' for awhile. I think I just heard one of my speakers pop though. I turn it down.

"You are marsh'n my mallow, man," Sam says. I'm not exactly sure what this means. I bet it's something along the lines of _turn that back on_. Sam terminology is always interesting.

"I'm sorry about your, uh, _mallow_. I am pretty sure you just destroyed Batman's bass though." Well, the little bass he had. Er, I mean _she. _Sam can think she's a he all she wants, but Sam can never change my mind.

"You called him Batman!" Her voice is filled with triumphant glee. "Alright, fine. I'll reward you by letting you control the volume." My plan worked. Now I am living proof that it _is _quite possible to persuade Sam to comply with your requests.

So I guess I'm feeling pretty good right now, and I risk asking, "So…why don't you want to go to the fire station?" I brace myself for yelling.

But she only sighs. "Well, seeing that you are _never_ going to stop asking," she pauses and traces the lock on the car door thoughtfully, as if trying figure the best way to explain. "I, uh, well…there's a guy there who probably wants to hand me over to the cops."

"_Sam_! What is wrong with you? You are such a delinquent."

"I knew you'd be like this. That's why I didn't want to tell you." She crossed her arms, forcing my right arm to let go of the wheel. Now, I had been following my mother's 'one hand at ten o'clock the other at two o'clock' rule for so long now, I just don't trust myself without two hands on the wheel. So I yank my arm back and clutch the wheel. I at this point I realize with my steady grip at the two o'clock, if Sam tries to pull my hand back, she will force me to swerve the car to the right, and we'll crash to our death. Luckily, I'm pulling into the fire station right now.

"So what did you do exactly?" I ask as I crawl out after her from her side of the car.

"Well, I might have, uh, hustled one of these guys a few weeks ago." She drops her voice to a whisper, as we have now caught the attention of a few men in the open garage. They are snickering. I guess they see the handcuffs. "You know, that one night I snuck into that casino with my mom."

"You hustled him? That's, you know, _illegal_. You do realize that?" I whisper back.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. But so is watching movies on the internet!" Her whisper has raised to a raspy yell this time.

I decide to just get a few notches louder than her. "I buy them first, Sam! You really think I'd watch movies illegally?"

"I guess not. I mean, you _are_ a total pansy ass nub!" She completely forgets to whisper this time. We walk into the open garage.

"Can we help you kids?" A huge black fireman is looking down at us with an amused smile. Some of the other guys come over too.

"Umm, yes actually," I say. Sam leans against the side of a fire truck as I continue. "As you can see, we're kind of in a _situation_." Sam decides to help me out by shaking the cuffs violently. "And we have been for like a week. So, we were wondering if you guys wouldn't mind helping us out."

The huge fireman laughs heartily. Then a girl walks over to our little semi-circle. She is hot too. I mean, as far was women in boots and overalls go. I've never seen a female fireman before. She seems pretty comfortable around the guys. She must be tough, being a lady fireman. You know, this thought just came to me. I bet that could be Sam if she stayed out of jail long enough to start a career. She wouldn't have to go to collage either. And it didn't hurt that she loved fire. She's sort of a pyro at times.

Anyway, the girl comes over and says, "What's the problem." Sam shakes the cuffs, again. She's holding an axe she found on the ground, and running her index finger along the blade. A bearded fireman is watching her with a questioning face. Then he seems to come to some sort of conclusion.

"Hey! You're that girl! From the casino!" He points an accusing finger at her. _Uh oh_.

"No she's not!" I say this too quickly though. It doesn't sound very convincing.

Sam shakes her head at me, silently telling me to just shut up and leave the lying to her. "I don't believe I know what you are talking about, sir." I guess the _sir_ couldn't hurt.

"I swear, you look just like the girl I played poker. You and your mom acted like you had no idea how to play, and by the end of the game you have everyone's money."

Sam tries to hide her proud smile. "How dare you? Accuse a young schoolgirl like me of _hustling_. That's illegal, you know."

"I'm aware of that!" The bearded fireman is still not convinced. Luckily, the huge guy steps in.

"I can't believe you lost a game of poker to some little girl!" The others laugh. The bearded guy decides to drop the subject.

"So, can you do something? Please?" I ask. The lady fireman smiles at me.

"What's wrong with being handcuffed to your girlfriend anyway?"

Sam makes a disgusted sound. "Ew. Please. I just ate."

"She's _not_ my girlfriend!"

The woman smiles. "Sorry. The way you guys were fighting when you came in here. You sounded like a married couple or something."

"Wow." Sam smirks sarcastically. "That's not cliché or anything." I'm sincerely proud of Sam for knowing how to use the word _cliché_.

The firemen laugh, well except for beard-guy, who is still staring at Sam. "Okay, okay. I can get the cuffs off. Come here." The woman pulls a clip out of her hair. She sticks it the keyhole and says, "You just have to jimmy it a little and-,"

"Who's Jimmy?" Wow. Just when I thought Sam knew words…

There's a clicking noise and then follows a remarkable moment. I watch the metal cuff slide off. It's like slow motion. I smile as I rub my now-free wrist. I look at Sam, who is doing the same , except with an expression of horror on her face. "You mean, that's it? That's all it took?" Her bottom jaw drops. "I can't believe I didn't think of that! It was just _too _easy. I pick locks on a daily basis, and I COULDN'T EVEN THINK OF THAT!

"Wow Sam. I guess you could have done that a long time ago." I'm still smiling. The thought that we didn't really have to be handcuffed for a whole week doesn't bother me. I tell myself it's just because I'm so happy to be free now. The woman picks up the handcuffs and hands them to Sam. Sam gapes at them for the longest time. She seems to be very angry with herself.

"Well, thanks," I say. "Really. I don't know how much longer I was going to be able to go without changing my shirt."

The huge guy smiles down at me. "No problem." His massive hand pats my back. I know this is just a friendly gesture, but it makes my knees buckle. I sway for a second before regaining my balance. Sam looks up from the cuffs in her hands.

Sam seems to recover from her little episode. "Yeah, thanks. You want some cash or something? Some sort of payment?" She reaches into her pocket. I'm thinking, _Whoa_._ Sam never offers to pay for anything, _when she pulls out a familiar brown leather wallet.

"Sam!" I snatch my wallet from her and look inside. "There was more than ten dollars in here!"

"Really? _Weird_…" She nods at the fireman. "Well as Fredward's money seems to have evaporated into thin air, I don't think it is within his finances to pay you." She smiles lopsidedly. "But thanks anyway."

The firewoman smiles. "Sure thing." Sam heads out to my car. I'm enjoying not having to be pulled along by her, so I linger for a second.

The big fireman smiles slyly at me. "Good luck," he says.

"Good luck?"

He just winks and elbows me. "But be careful with that one. She seems pretty feisty. But I think she's a keeper."

"Yeah, alright," I say, though I don't really need to take heed of his warning. It's not like Sam and I are, well, you know…it's just not very likely. I follow Sam out to the car.

As she pulls open the door, I see a dangerous smirk spread across her face. She turns back to the firemen. "Oh and Bill-," beard-guy looks up at her. "Try not to rub your chin so much when you play cards. It's _so _easy to call your bluff, it's not even fun." Bill's mouth forms an 'o' shape. As he busts out into a series of _I told you_!'s, I peel out of the parking lot. I speed off before they decide to call the police or something. Sam tosses the handcuffs into the cup holder, smiling satisfactorily.

"You really couldn't resist?" I ask.

She looks out the window and smiles. "Just don't slow down, Freward."

* * *

**Okay, there it is. Review please. I love new ideas. And don't worry, just because they aren't cuffed anymore doesn't mean it's over. The handcuffs are just the beginning. I'm excited to write the next chapter. Could get interesting. So, again review. **


	5. the Cooper Smith factor

**Hey.**

** It starts off with Freddie's PoV of the first night he spends alone after being un-cuffed. Then it's still Freddie's PoV a few weeks after the trip to the fire station. The first part is like a flashback, but I decided to keep in present tense. It just sounded better than past tense. So I hope that doesn't get too confusing. Okay. Enjoy.  
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**Oh and for the flashback, Freddie is tired, so his thought process is a little different. Maybe that won't matter though. I just thought I'd tell you.

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**

_I roll over and tuck my arm under my pillow. Nope, I'm not comfortable like that either. I sit up and angrily fluff my pillow, for the twenty eighth time. Seriously. I exhale slowly then lay back down on my other side. It sill doesn't feel right. I lay on my stomach in an 'x' formation, covering every inch of my bed. The stretch is refreshing. I hadn't been able to do that in, say, the past six days. But it still wasn't quite right. I roll onto my back and fold my hands over my chest. Thoughts about my day flutter through my mind. _Marsh'n my mallow. Heh. _In spite of myself, I smile. Then these thoughts lead to thoughts about my week. I note that I should probably tell mom about the dent in the shower curtain rod. My hand automatically travels to my forehead. There is still a small bump. _

_I roll over again. I yawn sleepily, when something catches my eye. I'm looking at a dark haired young man. He just stares back at me. He's got large bags under his eyes, complemented by his furrowed eyebrows. His expression is completely perplexed, yet he knows exactly what's going on. He looks angry, but somewhere inside, he's happy, because he's thinking about her. But why should that make him happy? It __should be making him miserable. He concentrates on the miserable things, but they only make him happier and more confused. I sigh as I turn away from the mirror on the opposite wall.  
_

_I decide to curl myself up as close to the wall as I can possibly be, like I had been all week, but by choice this time. There's still something missing. I wrap a pillow with one of my sheets and lay it down next to me. _

_But it doesn't generate body heat, and it doesn't snore, and it's hair doesn't smother my face. I sigh as I roll out from under my covers. I grab a pillow and head for the living room, sleepy thoughts of a couch clouding my mind. _

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Okay, so remember a few weeks ago, when I told Cooper Smith about Sam liking him? Well I guess the feeling is mutual now. I warned Cooper. Believe me, I warned him.

"Seriously Coop. Think about this. Think about this long and hard."

The dark skinned boy laughs. "Oh come on Freddie! She's _hot_…am I right?"

"Uh...well, I mean, I guess so…" I shake my head. "But that's not the point! You don't know Sam like I do. She's pure evil, I'm telling you. She'll rip your heart out and tear it into little pieces."

Cooper laughed. "Sounds like you've had some experience, bro."

"With Sam? Not really, we just…just…just trust me, okay?"

"Well, thanks for the warning man, but it's too late. She's already on my radar. And she fits my new _blondes only_ policy." It may come to you as a surprise that I am friends with a someone like Cooper, but I promise he's really a cool guy. And I don't have many close guy friends, so it's going to take a lot for me to give up on Cooper. "Well, I better get to class. See you later Fred."

"Right, later." I continue organizing my messy locker. And of course, it's not messy on my account. I would never let it get like this. But sometimes Sam digs through it looking for money, or food, or both.

"Hey Freddorkington." Speak of the devil.

"Oh, hey Sam. Freddorkington…hmm…not sure how I feel about that one." Sam shoots me a little smirk. I smile down at her in return. I am just about to ask her how her day was when out of the corner of my eye, I see Cooper pull a 180 in the hall. He strides toward my locker again. He must have heard Sam's name.

"Hey Freddie. What's up?" I just shake my head at him. "Oh, hi Sam. How was your day?"

"Oh, it was fine I guess. I got a nice nap in during Biology."

"Oh yeah, I bet. Homeostasis just knocks me out," Cooper says.

Sam giggles at this. Wait, Sam just giggled. Sam doesn't giggle. Girls giggle. Sam eats and breaks things. She doesn't giggle. "You're so funny, Coop." What? _Excuse me_? Did Sam just tell Cooper he was so funny? This is not making any sense to me. Was Sam _flirting_? No way. Sam had always been very up front with guys. She wasn't one to beat around the bush. Wait, did she just flick her hair?

Cooper smiles his winning smile. He leans casually against a locker. "So, I was wondering-,"

"Yes?"

"-if maybe you wanted to catch a movie or something, on Friday?"

"That sounds wonderful." Come on Sam. You don't say wonderful. You're way too lazy to use three syllable words for this casual degree of conversation.

"Great. I'll text you later." I look out from behind my locker door, and see that Cooper is still here. He's supporting himself with his arm above his head on the locker. His arm blocks my view of Sam's face. I guess I was wrong to think that 'I'll text you later' is a closer. They're just standing there, ogling at each other.

I cough once. "Aren't you going to be late for class, Coop?" I suddenly have the urge to reposition myself closer to Sam. I shift my weight heavily to my left so I can see her face again.

He shrugs, "I already am." He looks back at Sam, who is now nibbling on her lower lip. This is getting to be ridiculous. Since when does Sam nibble her lower lip? I cough again.

"I hear that Mr. Ordway is taking participation points in class today," I inform Cooper, like the accommodating friend I am.

He sighs. "Participation points. I do need those." He sighs again and pushes himself away from the lockers. "See you later Freddie." He smiles at Sam. "And I will be sure to text you tonight." Then he finally struts off down the hallway.

I turn to Sam. She's still biting on the corner of her lower lip, smiling to herself. I might have found this cute if there wasn't such a vast array of emotions going on inside of me right now. These would take awhile to sort out. "Wow Sam, I'm glad to see you can be yourself around him."

She doesn't pick up my sarcasm. "Thanks dork," she smiles.

"You coming to Carly's."

"No. Room 209 after hours. Ordway."

"Oh yeah. He didn't really like it when you wore that eye patch to class, did he?"

Sam shakes her head. "He's such a pirate hater."

I laugh, "Maybe it was also the fact that you referred to him as 'matey' the entire class period." As I move a few more books around, a pair of handcuffs comes tumbling out of my locker. They announce their arrival to the ground by sending a loud clanking sound echoing through the halls.

"You still have these?" Sam asks, picking them up and patting them fondly. "It seems like only a few weeks ago when that fateful Monday occurred." She's talking about that time we both had detention, and the six day period of being handcuffed together began.

"It _was _only a few weeks ago, Sam."

"Oh right." She looks at the cuffs again. "Why do you still have these anyway?"

"I was going to give them back to TJ sometime."

Sam laughs. "He doesn't want them. They're defective, remember?"

"Is that why I think of you every time I look at them?" I was teasing her, but my words were true. Maybe that's why they were still in my locker. This is a scary revelation.

"Oh, so you have jokes now, huh Benson?" She elbows me in the ribs, a little too hard to be playful. "I'm hungry." She tuts and rolls her eyes as I rub my sore ribs, then walks off toward room 209. I'm sure she has a plate of waffles awaiting her there.

I meet Carly on the bus. She invites me over to her apartment to help plan our next web show. "Peppy Cola?"

"Yeah. Sure," I say, sitting down at the table with my laptop. "You have anything to eat? Like Fat Cakes?"

She tosses me one. "I was saving these for the Fat Cake monster, but here you go." I know she is referring to a certain aggressive blonde as the Fat Cake monster.

"Thanks." I take a large bite, managing to devour half of a cake at once. Carly busies herself with the dishes while we brainstorm for ideas. Sooner than usual, I've finished my Fat Cakes and Peppy Cola. I check out the fridge and find a half eaten ham sandwich. "Mind if I eat this?"

"Go ahead." Carly places a few silver spoons in a drawer. "I think it's Sam's"

I shrug as I finish it off. Then I open another package of Fat Cakes. Carly is watching me closely. "Freddie?"

"Hmm?" I grunt between mouthfuls.

"Are you, okay? You seem to be, um, turning into Sam or something."

I laugh at that. "Yikes, I hope not!"

"Is your mother starving you?"

I laugh again. "No Carly. Though, she did recently outlaw me from red meat." The taste of the ham sandwich still lingers in my mouth. "Oops."

"So, it's comfort food. I see. And what might be wrong?"

"Carly! Nothing is wrong!"

"Are you sure? Maybe it has something to do with two of your best friends going out on Friday..."

"How do you already know about that?"

Carly shakes her PearPod in front of my face. "Texting, my friend."

"Well, yeah, but Sam can't text. She's in detention."

Carly laughs as she sits down at my laptop. "Since when does that matter?"

"True."

She minimizes my search engine, and begins looking through pictures. "So, are you?"

"What?" I ask weakly.

"Mad about Sam and Cooper!"

"Why would I be? They are at perfect liberty to date whomever their little hearts desire!"

She just nods with a knowing smile. I hate it when she does that. When she knows stuff. Stuff about me that I don't even know. She changes the wallpaper on my computer from the Pear logo to a picture from grade school of Gibby dancing on a table. Shirtless, of course. "A bunch of people are going to the movies on Friday night. I don't have a date yet though."

I shift my weight uneasily. "Uh, you want to go with me?" This is very out of character from me these days. You see, my crush on Carly pretty much subsided on the summer after ninth grade. I guess I grew up a little, and finally got enough sense knocked into me by Sam (literally _knocked_). Don't get me wrong. I still love Carly. But only as my coworker and friend. When I told her this last summer, I'm pretty sure she secretly celebrated the day like a holiday. _Freddie De-pronounces His Love Day_. It has a ring to it.

"Sorry Freddie. That would just be _way _to weird."

"That's fine!" I heave a sigh of relief. "So, are you going to try to find a date?"

"Oh, they will find me, don't you worry," she winks.

"I hear Clay Cusack has had his eye one you for awhile." Then I brace myself for squeals, which promptly follow.

After her squealing interlude is over, she's fanning herself, a little pink from the excitement. "And what about you?"

"Oh, I don't know. My mom sort of had this mother-son pottery class in mind-,"

"But she will be way more pleased if you have a date. Come on! You know the whole 'dating thing' is your mom's biggest worry for you. Well, next to your hairless legs."

"I have hair on my legs," I mumble. "Okay, fine. I will ask somebody out before Friday."

"Good for you Freddie." Carly smiles. She seems to have found a picture for my wallpaper that she is satisfied with. It's a cute picture of her standing in front of a Christmas tree, wearing Santa Clause hat. It was for the web show's Christmas photo shoot last year. I sling my bag over my shoulder and pick up my laptop.

"Okay, well, see you later Carly. I'm going home for dinner."

"Are you still hungry," she asks, tossing my Fat Cake wrappers into the trash can.

I shrug. "Yeah."

"Wow. Sam really is rubbing off on you."

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	6. texting in the rain

**Okay...here you go...surprisingly i have nothing to say....Sam's PoV....  
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It's always raining in Seattle. Always.

I note this as I'm walking home after detention. I didn't have any money for the bus today, and no Freddork or Carls to "barrow" from. So here I am in the rain. And, no I don't have an umbrella! Umbrellas are for the weak! Not me. I don't need one. I'm fine.

I shiver as I pull at my soaked shirt sticking to my skin. I ring out my hair too, but I'm pretty sure within a minute it'll be just as wet. I sigh as I finally open my phone, and begin dialing Freddie's number. He is probably studying or taking a tick bath, but he will just have to stop is nerdish activities and come pick me up. My finger is on the send button, but my phone's sudden vibrations stop me from pressing down. I read the message that appears on the screen.

It's from someone named 'Copper.' This automatically sends up a red flag in my mind. Some people may think of metal or pennies when they hear this word. Well it's different for me. First thing that pops into my mind is the police. I'm trying to recall what my last criminal act was. _Oh yeah._ Heh. But we won't go there…Okay, the old geezer was just asking for it! _He _was the one making so much noise tapping his cane on the sidewalk! Okay, okay, so he was _blind._ But seriously! Get a seeing-eye-dog or something. And, okay, _maybe _I shouldn't have snapped his cane in half…

But then I realize that I never saved anyone named 'Copper' in my contact list. I curiously open up the message. It reads, **Hey beautiful! Wats ip? **

I know who it is now. Aw, he spelled _up_ wrong. How cute. I cancel the number I'm calling and text him back. "Oh nothing. Just walking home in the rain." I say this aloud in a sing-songy voice as I text it. Okay...ew. I hate girls who use sing-songy voices (with the exception of Carly, of course). But what can I say? The boy makes me do strange things. I send the text and quickly change his name in my contact list from 'Copper' to 'Cooper'. Then I change it 'Shmexaay' then 'Daaayuuum' then back to 'Cooper'. I desperately whip open my phone when I next feel it vibrate. **Really? well im excited for fri. **_Fri_? My stomach growls. I _do _need some fries. Oh, wait. _Friday_. Got it.

I was thinking that maybe he was going to ask me _why _I was walking home in the rain, but this was even better! I celebrate by jumping into the nearest puddle. As splash a man passing by, he yells "Hey kid, watch it!"

"You watch it!" I yell back. I'm a little disappointed in this particular exchange. I would've come up with something better to yell at him, if I didn't have more important matters at hand. I continue texting Cooper about our plans for Friday. Before I know it, I'm walking up the concrete steps to my front door. "Mom! I'm home!" I yell. Then I burst out into a fit of laughter at Coop's text. **Yeah i kno! **I begin replying to his latest bash on Mr. Ordway. **And his butt is sooo saggy...i swear its just gonna fall off one of these days! **

"Mom!" I yell again. There's no answer. I walk into the small, untidy kitchen. I look on the table for a note from her. There's no note. I sigh as I open the fridge. I grab a beer and head out to the living room. I probably won't open it though. It's just the comfort of having something to grab out of the fridge, and beer seems to be the only thing in stock today. I set it down on the TV tray stand. Don't get me wrong! I'm not a pansy or anything. Trust me, if we were at a party, I would be shotgunning this can as we speak. But as I appear to be the only one around, there's really no obligation.

After flipping through the channels a few times, I head upstairs to my room. I kick my left soaked Converse under the bed. Then my right flies into the closet. I flop down on my messy bed, bouncing up and down four times before my body loses momentum, and settle into the springy mattress. Yesterday I bounced seven times. Hmm...What is wrong with me today?

I place my phone next to the lamp on the nightstand. I sit back awaiting Cooper's text. It's like a lifeline right now; the only thing that is keeping me from going crazy. As much as I hate people, I somehow hate being alone. It had been about fifteen minutes since I replied. I am beginning to lose hope that he was going to text back. Or maybe his text is so long and heartfelt that it is taking awhile to write. That last thought gives me hope. I busy myself by painting my nails. Then I remove the ugly pink color and repaint them a blue shade that suits me better. I dig through my closet until I find a shoebox labeled 'emergencies only'. I open it up and empty it of its contents. Then I scoop the twelve Fat Cakes up in my arms, and sit back on my bed. I'm opening my ninth package when my phone finally vibrates.

My hand shoots out toward the night stand. I flip open my phone excitedly, visions of Cooper's gorgeous smile dancing in my head. But the text isn't from Cooper. I sigh as I reply, **Wat do you want Freddork? **

His next text follows almost immediately. **I just wanted to tell you about our next iCarly show. We are going to go explore this old barn and determine whether or not it's haunted. **

He always uses perfect punctuation when he texts. He's such a dork. **Sounds preeeetty dumb...yur idea? **

**Carly's actaully. **So I continue texting the nerd, not giving up on Cooper though. Freddo tells me about this haunted barn for awhile, then I make the mistake of asking him what he's up to. He begins telling me about his Trigonometry homework.

**Freddweird, i don't care about functions and identities! u tryin to kill me kid? cuz you are boring me to death... **

**Sorry. How did you get home from school after detention?**

As I am reading this, I hear the front door downstairs slam shut. Mom must be home. I hope she stopped at the store. I walk out into the hall, turning toward the stairs. Then I hear a man's voice. I grimace. Sonny must be here.

"Has Sam been drinking my stuff?" Oops. I forgot to put the beer can back in the fridge. "I'm tellin' you, that kid is a delinquent!" I look down at my bare feet and angrily watch my toes as they curl and uncurl.

"No...well, she's a bit rough around the edges. But she would never do anything really bad." My mom sounds like she's putting groceries away. My stomach gets the best of me, and I walk down to the kitchen.

"Hey, Mom."

"Oh, you're here," she says. She gives Sonny an angry glance. He just grunts. "Thought you were at Carly's."

I shrug. _I wish I were at Carly's. _Sonny points to the can in his hand and cocks an eyebrow. "Hey, chill out! It's not open," I say.

Sonny grunts again. "Well, I know for a fact that two of em' are missing from yesterday."

"Are you sure you weren't just too drunk to remember those last two?" Mom shoots me a warning look as she places the peanut butter in the cupboard. But I'm not scared of Sonny. I mean, he's big, but he won't do anything to me. Not while Mom's home. "Aw, you finally shaved. You look so cute." I pat his belly as I walk by, headed for the peanut butter.

He grunts, for the third time in, like, a minute. "You need to learn some respect, little girl."

_Little girl._ Pfft. "You're not my dad, Sonny, so stop telling me what I need."

Sonny looks like he's about to yell, but my mom cuts him off. "Sam, you should thank Sonny. He bought these groceries." Oh yeah...that's why we keep him around. I scowl down at the peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my hands. Sonny smirks at me.

_Hey, I smirk! That's my thing, _I think. But I don't say anything. Sonny looks down on me. "Well..."

"What?" I'm not about to thank him. Pa-lease.

"Sam. Come on." My mom frowns at me, as if to say, 'this is no time to be stubborn'_. _

"Mom..." I whine. She just shakes her head. Sonny crosses his arms and looks at me.

I take a deep breath, and exhale strenuously. "Th-thanks." I turn and rush up the stairs, before the tears begin flooding down my cheeks. I wipe them away angrily, as I fall to my bed. Stupid feelings. Gah... My eyes search the room for something, anything, too distract me. I see my phone where I left in next to my lamp. I pick it up. I still haven't answered Freddie's question. "I walked home in the rain," I say out loud as I text it.

It's a few minutes before he texts me back. I finish my sandwich and open up another package of Fat Cakes. I'm still hoping Cooper will text me back, though it's been quite awhile now since I last replied him. Then my phone vibrates. I pick it up hopefully, but it's just Freddo again. **I could have picked you up, Sam. **

**I kno, **I reply. I hear Sonny yelling.

**Are you okay? You don't think you'll get sick, do you?**

My mom is yelling now. **I'm fine. **I turn up my music, drowning out everything but my thoughts. Well, everything but my thoughts and Freddo's, I guess.

**Okay. Do you want to hear a little more about the haunted barn? **

**Shouldn't u be doin triggamaxonealetry? **It was going to bother him that I spelled it wrong. Heh.

**It's trigonometry. TRIG-ONO-METRY! And, yes, so stop distracting me. **

**Okay. **He'll text me back. Don't worry. I jump as I suddenly hear four loud knocks on the door.

"Turn that shit down!" Sonny's voice booms. I turn it up. He'll be leaving soon anyway. My phone vibrates.

**Wait, I was wondering what time you were going to that movie on Friday?** Sure enough, he texts me back. That's right Freddork! Thought so.

**Like nine, i think. Y? **

**I'm going to come. **What?

**Heh! third wheel...haha... **

**No. I'm bringing a date. I think Carly and some other people are going to be there too. **

People. I hate people. I text this to Freddie.

**I'm sorry that you hate people. **

So Fredward is bringing a date. I'll believe this when I see it. **Who's the unlucky girl? **

**Undecided at this point. **

I suggest he ask Peggy, the school secretary. **She's so scary looking, maybe they'll just let you in free.... **

**No thank you. I'd rather pay.** I laugh. Wow, just laughed at a Fredwierd joke. This is strange.

It's Mom who knocks on the door this time. "Please turn your music down, Sam!" Her voice is barely audible over the loud bass pumping out of my speakers. I get up and turn the dial to the left five notches. "Thank you!" Now I can hear Sonny again. He's still yelling. I curl up in my blankets and take my anger out on my pillow by giving it the most violent fluffing of it's life. **How bout Unice? **

**You mean, headgear Unice? **

**Yeah! U guys looks so cute together in math club! **I reply.

**Urgh. **I imagine Freddie making this sound with an exasperated expression, and smile.

I usually wouldn't go to bed for a few more hours, but I'm tired. I continue texting Freddo nonsense suggestions for his date, that I know will piss him off, until I finally drift to sleep.

**

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Okay, sweet. Uh, review and things...yeah, you know.**


	7. my pants, your gum, more Fat Cakes

**Heh. I love this chapter. It was fun to write the movie scene (you'll see what I mean...).. anyways...thanks for the reviews guys. Now read! **

I walk across the hall to the door labeled 8C. I knock twice, and hear someone call "Come in!" I open the door and expect to see Carly on the couch smiling at me, but it's not her sitting on the couch. It's Sam. And she's not smiling.

"Oh. Hey Sam."

She sort of raises her eyebrows to let me know she acknowledges my presence. She's staring at the TV, Fat Cake in hand. I sit down next to her. "So…where's Carly?"

Sam doesn't bother to swallow her latest bite before saying, "She's still at school." She blows her nose in a tissue and tosses it on the ground to a pile that seems to have accumulated.

I wipe a piece of Sam-chewed Fat Cake off my face. "Oh yeah. Student council meeting today. You have a cold."

"Ooh, you're a clever one. Nothing get's past Freddo." She sneezes.

"It's from being out in the rain yesterday, Sam." She rolls her eyes at me. "Seriously, just give me call, and I'll pick you up next time." Sam blows her nose again. "Is Spencer here?"

"Nope."

"Why are you here?"

She shrugs. "You are giving me and Carly a ride to the movies."

"Oh," I nod. "Thanks for letting me know, I guess."

"Sure thing." She tosses her Fat Cake wrapper on the floor. I see that she has started a little collection of these as well. I smile. She shakes her head at me and looks away. Why does she seem so angry?

"So I hear you found a date."

"Really?" I ask, a little surprised that this news traveled so fast. It was only earlier this morning when I took care of my promise to Carly.

"Yeah. So…who's the victim?"

"Natalie Williams," I state triumphantly. Natalie was one of the hotter girls in our grade. Supposedly, I hadn't been the first to ask her to the movies tonight either. But she had said yes when I asked her this morning before school, and seemed excited. She and her friends had been smiling and waving to me in the hallways all day. Currently among the guys, I was the _man_.

Sam chokes on her Fat Cake. "Natalie Williams? You sure?"

"Oh wait! No, I meant to say headgear Unice…Yes I'm Sure!"

Sam shakes her head in disbelief. "There's no way. This just doesn't add up." She looks thoughtfully at me. "I mean, you're such a nerd!"

"You seem to be the only one who still thinks so," I tell her.

"Whatever, Dork. So, are we picking up Nat-," she stops. A mischievous smirk spreads across her face. "I mean, _Nast_alie."

"Nastalie." I repeat. "Wow. You do have a knack for nicknames."

"I will take your sarcasm as a complement," she says.

"Yes, we are picking her up. So let's try not to be late." I look at the clock. "Maybe you should start getting ready."

"Oh come on, I have five hours!"

"Sorry." I shrug. "You look like you could use all of the time you can get." She's changed out of her school clothes into something more comfortable; an old Seattle Seahawks t-shirt, and a pair of baggy gray sweatpants. The pants look oddly familiar. "Hey! Those are my pants!"

"Yeah, so?"

"Wha-what…where…"

I sputter for a second before she says, "I got em' out of your room before you came home. Picked the lock."

"Couldn't you just use Carly's pants?"

"Oh, please excuse my ass for being a bigger than her's!"

"You're ass is excused," I say. "Just give them back, okay?"

She takes a bite of the fluffy pink cake in her hand.

"_Okay_?" I ask again, louder this time.

"Fine! Quiet down, spas boy! I'm trying to watch the fight." That's as good of an agreement as I'm going to get from Sam. I reach for a Fat Cake. She slaps my hand away without taking her eyes off the TV. I sigh and reach for the pack of gum on the coffee table. As a stick a piece in my mouth, she grabs my cheeks with one hand.

"That's my gum," she informs me in a low, menacing voice. She squeezes my cheeks tighter until I spit it out. She picks up the sticky green wad, dusts it off, and puts it in her mouth. I grimace.

"That's disgusting, Sam."

"I would say the same about your face, but it's not going to change anything."

I sigh. "Is Carly almost here? We need to finish iCarly before the movie."

"I don't know." Sam probably didn't hear me. She is very enveloped in the MMA fight she's watching. She's grinding her fists together, shouting occasionally. I'm pretty scared at this point.

I try again to reach for a Fat Cake. I grab one and quickly bring it to my mouth. And I almost get it in there. Almost.

Sam reaches over, again without looking, and snatches the cake right out of my hands. She then brings it to her mouth and pauses, remembering her gum. She takes the gum out and examines it from the end of her index finger. Then she looks at me and smirks. "Hold this." She sticks it to my cheek while she finishes off the Fat Cake.

And I'm not going to take it off. If you lived with my mom for sixteen years, you wouldn't either. Better that the germs just stay in one place. And who knows where Sam's mouth has been. Images of Fat Cakes and ham and chalk (yes, I've seen her eat chalk) float through my head. Then Cooper's perfect smile pops up in there. My eyebrows furrow as I cross my arms. I lean back into the couch. Sam smirks and continues eating. She thinks I'm angry about the gum.

Spencer walks in then. He's not surprised to see us here. "Hey kiddos. Where's Carly?"

"Student council meeting," Sam and I say together. Then Sam quietly says the word, "_Simultaneously_…" I'm not sure why. Hmmm…

Spencer's hands are filled with what looks like human body parts. Sam and I exchange concerned glances. He sets them down on the table. Sam walks over and picks up an arm. She sniffs it. "Don't worry Freddo. They're plastic."

"_Yeah_ they are!" Spencer smiles brightly. "I'm making a sculpture called 'Manikins Gone Wild.'"

Sam pats his back lovingly. "And I'm sure it's going to be grand, Spence."

Carly walks through the door. "Hey guys!" She sets down her bag and takes Sam's place on the couch. She's smiling off into space. She sighs happily.

"So Clay asked you to the movies, I take it," I say.

She nods excitedly, then appears to explode or something as she flings her arms around my neck and squeezes me tightly. I timidly pat her back as my eyes find Sam. She's frozen with another Fat Cake in her hand, halfway to her mouth. Her eyes flash before she goes back to her normal Fat Cake-consuming self. She finishes off the Fat Cake, still eying me.

I quickly let go of Carly and put my hands up. "Sorry." _Oops_. That slipped. I'm hoping Carly doesn't catch on. Actually, I'm hoping Sam doesn't either.

Carly does catch on. "What?" She looks from Sam to me, then back to Sam. "_What_?

Sam decides to play dumb. "Huh?"

Carly looks at me. She waggles her eyebrows, then giggles. I roll my eyes. "Let's get going on iCarly."

I set up my technical equipment in the studio while Carly sets up a table, layered with fifty pounds of baked beans. Tonight's show will be interesting.

"Where's Sam?" Carly asks.

"I don't know…eating?" I suggest. "We go live in two minutes though." I holler out the glass iCarly door, "SAM! Hurry up!" We finish up the last touches to the bean covered table. "Less than a minute now," I say, glancing at my watch. Staying true to her Samness, she still hasn't come up yet. I look at my watch again. "I've got to start the count down," I tell Carly.

She positions herself behind the bean table while I start in with, "Okay in five, Sam! Four, SAM! Three, COME ON SAM! Two, WE'RE STARTING SAM!" I'm looking down at my camera. Sam comes sliding in from the side of the screen. She is holding down the _applause _button on her blue remote to announce her entrance. Though we are live, I can's help myself and I ask, "Sam, why do you always have to do that?"

She smiles. "Just staying true to my Samness, dear teach-guy."

Sam has a smudge of mustard on her chin. I zoom in on Carly while she starts the introduction. Then I quickly swipe my thumb over Sam's chin, making the yellow substance disappear. "Oh. Thanks Fredilina."

I zoom back to full screen, revealing the new, magically smudgeless, Sam. "Yeah. Sure thing." She sees the gum still on my face. I had forgotten about it. She takes it off and sticks it in her mouth, and begins explaining the bean table.

-----------------------------------------------------

The three of us are riding in Batman on the way to pick up Natalie. Carly is stretched out in the back, and Sam's riding shotgun. She's still in my sweatpants. You see, she wore her jeans during iCarly tonight. By the end of the show, they were completely covered in beans. And (hey she said this, not me) her backside was a little too big to fit into Carly's pants. So she wore mine. She might be a little underdressed for a date, but the gray sweats look good on her. The ride low on her waist, and aren't too loose to show her shape, and...well, I'll stop there. I look over at her. She's laughing as she reads Cooper's text.

"Why are you texting him? Aren't you going to be seeing him in, like, five minutes?"

"Shut up Fredward! What do you know?" She goes back to texting, then sneezes.

Carly rummages through her purse. "Here," she reaches forward and hands Sam a small capsule. "It'll help the runny noise. I bet Cooper's not going to want you to have one of _those_ tonight."

Sam smiles. "Probably not." She places the pill in her mouth and takes a swig of the Peppy-Cola in my cup holder.

"Sam! That's mine," I say.

"Correction..._was _yours. Unless you want a cold."

I shake my head angrily as we pull into Natalie's driveway. "Oh, uh, would you please move to the backseat?"

"Huh?" Sam looks at me in disbelief.

"Seriously."

"Come on Sam," Carly says. "You heard him."

Sam's nostrils flare as she glares at me. She takes off her seat belt and gets out, slamming the door shut. Carly sits up to make room for her. "How long are we gonna have to wait for this chick?"

"We've only been here for like ten seconds, Sam," I inform her. Just then, Natalie comes outside. I get out and dutifully open her door for her.

She smiles at me. "Hey Freddie!"

"Hey Nat." I climb back into the front seat. I glance at the rear-view mirror to check for cars. But what I see is Sam looking right at me, shaking her head in disapproval. I sigh as I put the car in reverse. I start the short trip to the movie theater, but I have a feeling it will be a long four minutes.

Natalie and Carly have struck up a conversation about a class they have together in sixth period. I think Sam also has that class, but as she never attends, she doesn't contribute much to the conversation. She's silent until I almost hit another car at a stoplight. "Careful Freddork! Don't crash Ol' Nastalie!"

"_Nastalie_?" Natalie asks. She's looking at me accusingly.

Before I can explain, Sam says, "Yeah, Nastalie. That's what Freddo named his car."

"I thought he was Batman!" I say. I look in the rear-view mirror again. Sam is smirking smugly at me.

"Oh, you changed it, remember?"

"You named your car?" Natalie asks.

"No. Of course not. And if I did he...er, _it _wouldn't be Nastalie." Natalie still looks confused. "Just don't pay any attention to Sam." I glance in the mirror to see what Sam thinks of this. But she's looking out the window, and I can't see her face. I turn into the movie theater parking lot. I get as close to the theater as I can, but we still have to walk quite a ways to to the front doors. When we get there, Sam goes off to find Cooper. He has her ticket. At least this time _I _didn't have to buy it, like every other time we come. Carly is waved over to a group of people by Clay. Natalie stays at my side me as I buy the tickets and popcorn. We're going to see some horror movie. It's supposed to be a real jumper. Hey, that's fine with me. Natalie's going to be scared, and I bet she'll want to cuddle. She follows me into the dark theater. I strategically choose a row in the very middle. Not too close to the screen and not too far away. It's just right. I always sit here.

So Natalie and I are watching the previews, talking and sharing popcorn, when a shrill laugh sounds off behind us. I turn around to see none other than Sam, occupying the seat directly behind mine. If I'd known this before while choosing my seat, I would've rethought my seating decision. But it's too late now. The theater is too full to move. Sam is still laughing. I turn around again to see Cooper also laughing while he tickles her legs. I know now that Sam's laugh must be fake. She's only ticklish on her stomach. Don't ask how I know this, because I couldn't tell you. I just know.

"Aw." Natalie's voice brings me back to the present. "Cooper and Sam are _so _cute." I swallow a few mints because I just threw up in my mouth. I settle back into the seat and put my arm around Natalie. She settles into my shoulder.

"Ada' boy Benson!" Cooper says from behind me. I turn around and he smiles at me. Sam doesn't.

I can't really enjoy the movie. Between Natalie's squeals of fear, and Sam's squeals of joy (she loves gore), I can't hear the movie at all. Plus, Sam keeps kicking my seat. I know Cooper is not enjoying the movie either. But he _does _sound like he's enjoying something else. There's a quiet 'popping' noise, and it sounds like Sam and Coop have finally resurfaced from eachothers faces.

"What?" I hear him whisper.

"I just need popcorn." Then suddenly, I see a hand reach into the bucket sitting in my lap, retreating with a handful of yellow popcorn. I crane my neck around, giving her an angry look. She only smiles, revealing her popcorn-covered teeth. Cooper sees this too, and immediately offers her some water. I guess he's not in the mood for popcorn. I face the movie again. Sam's munching stops. It seems the two have picked up where they left off. I look down at Natalie, who is still leaning against my chest. She looks up at me. I gulp. When I hear an especially aggressive sigh escape from Sam, I lean in to kiss her. Then I stop as a piece of popcorn hits the side of my face. I put my feet on the back of the seat in front of me, and push back against my own seat as hard as I can. I'm only satisfied when I can feel it crushing Sam's legs. Then I lean over to try again with Natalie only to be interrupted, once again, by a flying piece of popcorn. I glare back at Sam. She is still making out with Cooper. But now she's got her hand extended toward me, a certain finger sticking up. You know...the one in between the index and the ring finger. So I lean into Natalie, more hastily, for a third time. Sam then kicks the back of my seat, and I miss completely. But I do find out what the fealty back of a movie theater seat tastes like. I turn around to give Sam a piece of my mind. But then the lights come on. The movie is over.

I guide Natalie to the door, avoiding Sam and Coop. "Sorry about that." I run my hand through my hair nervously. We meet up with Carly and Sam in the lobby. Clay hugs Carly as Cooper pecks Sam on the lips. They both smile and wave, then follow us out to the car. Sam and Carly whisper and giggle the whole way home. I'm getting used to Sam giggling now, though I don't like it. My date and I are silent. We finally reach Natalie's house, and I walk her to her door.

"Sorry tonight was such a disaster."

"No, I had fun." She smiles helpfully. She's fiddling with her keys, and looking up at me with this little twinkle in her eyes.

Oh, right. I position myself in front of her and close my eyes as I lean in. Then I hear Batman's long, drawn out horn followed by Sam's, "Hurry up, Dork!" I turn in time to see her pull her head into the window and crawl to the backseat. I exhale deeply as I give Natalie an apologetic look.

"Some other time?" She suggests.

"That would be amazing." I turn back to my car and my girls. "Goodnight Nat--Sam! Stop pressing buttons, Sam!"  


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**Heh. Okay, there you go...hope you liked it. I would very much love to have some reviews at this time. A hint for the next chapter: it's called 'Okie Fanokie'....yeah, good luck figuring that one out. You guys will like it though, trust me. **

**Okay, I know I've been an updating fool lately...I need to get it down before I lose interest. I like to do things fast, but I have track practice after school tomorrow and the rest of the week, so I don't know if I will get chapter eight up anytime soon...I'm sorry...well... scratch that. ****I'll get chapter eight up by tomorrow night (or possibly morning). Okay....thanks...Peace kiddos!**

**THE NEXT ONE WILL BE UP SOON...I'M JUST FINISHING IT....**


	8. Okie Fanokie

**Alright. Before you read, I need to address a few things. **

**First off, thanks for the reviews, kids…though I'm sure many of you are older than me…Heh. **

_Apathetically Concerned _(who uses many intriguing varieties of smiles :D)** brought up an interesting point I think I should address…yes, it is very far fetched that Sam and Freddo remained handcuffed for an entire six day period. But, this is part of the genius (or not so genius maybe) of the story…it is supposed to be far fetched…if you have ever seen the show, almost every episode stretches reality to the max, as I have tried to do, staying true to the show. But I still agree, so I went back and made Sam freak out a tad bit more when the fireman takes off the cuffs in ch. 4. **

**And again, you need to know that BOJITSU IS THE MARTIAL ART OF WEAPON WIELDING....**

**Okay, I'm sorry if you read all that...here, let me repay you with this completely Sam/Freddie chapter (plus the surprise guest in the end)…now please continue…reviews would be appreciated…hope you like this chapter…so much sexual tension….Enjoy kiddos! **

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I'm sitting on the Shay's couch. Again. And Sam is sitting next to me, eating something that appears to be very messy. What else is new? I hand her a napkin and she takes it, giving me an ungrateful look. Then she turns back to the TV.

Outside, the sky is completely black. I glance at my watch. It's already past eleven o'clock. "Sam, we really have to get going."

"Shhh!"

There's a fight on TV. Enough said.

We were supposed to be getting an early start on filming our 'haunted barn' segment for iCarly. It was going to be like a documentary type thing, and the first of its kind for our show. We stopped by Carly's place so I could grab my tech stuff, which I left here before we went to the movie last night. I frown as I recall the movie. We were supposed to just swing by to get what we needed and leave. But then Sam turned on the TV, and the rest is history. Carly and Spencer are staying in Yakima, so Carly isn't around this weekend. But we had already promised the documentary to our viewers. Looks like we will be doing this ourselves. Somehow the thought of Sam and I alone in a haunted barn is less than comforting.

"Let's go, Sam! I'm serious!" I stand up and look down on her. "You don't want me to carry you out of here again, do you? Because I will."

This seems to get her attention. She glares up at me. "Fine. I'll go."

"Okay, wait here." I bound up the stairs, taking them three steps at a time. I retrieve my laptop and the portable camera from the studio and turn back to the door. With my hand on the doorknob, I look around the room one last time, making sure I didn't forget anything. Then I cross the length of the room in four long strides. I pick up a flashlight sitting on the hood of the decorative half-car. We will probably need this.

I skip down the stairs, completely jumping over the last flight. "Okay Sam…Sam?" She's not on the couch anymore. I look around the room. "Sam?"

"M'over here…Fre'ork…" Her words come out muffled, as her mouth is stuffed with mashed potatoes. I look over to the fridge, and see her, but not the front of her. She's bent down with her face in the fridge. I take in this sight with my wide, teenage eyes. Then I realize she's still wearing my sweatpants.

"I thought you put the pants back in my room?"

She swallows a spoonful of leftover gravy, without any potatoes, I might add. "I did." She takes another spoonful. "But, then I grabbed another pair." She tugs twice on the side of the baggy sweatpants. It's my favorite blue pair this time. "So are we gonna blow this popsicle stand, or what?"

I load the necessary technical equipment into Batman's trunk. "Generator, check...Full tank of gas, check...Laptop, check...Fat Cakes, check...Lighting, check...Camcorder, check...Tripod, check." I watch Sam forcefully slam her car door shut for no apparent reason before I latch the trunk. "Aggressive blonde…check."

I take my place in front of the wheel. "Nub, check," she adds. I grunt my disaproval, and she smiles. "Okay, we're all set. Put this bad boy into drive, Freddo."

---------------------------------------------------

_The barn itself is nothing to be scared of. It is old, yes. But scary, no. Okay, so the red paint had completely peeled off, revealing a discolored white underneath. And, maybe there is a lone frightening and mysterious window at the very peak. So the grass surrounding it is dead and overgrown, and it is just busting with eerie shadows. But the full moon is shining too bright. It feels like the middle of the day. And 'Okie Fanokie'? What kind of a name is that anyway? I'm sorry, but the place just isn't scary._

So those reassuring thoughts are running through my mind as I stare at the daunting facade of the barn, still hiding behind Batman's windshield. Sam is watching me from the passenger's seat. One hand is holding up her bored head, the other drumming impatiently on the dashboard. She lets out an exasperated sigh. There have been quite a few of those in the last ten minutes. I take a few more deep breaths before solemnly declaring, "Okay, I'm ready."

"Thank _God_!" She whips open the car door and practically skips to the barn's gloomy entrance. I unload the trunk, then follow suit with less enthusiasm. I look to the sky as I set up my tripod. Who am I kidding? The full moon is probably the scariest aspect of this whole situation. Well, that and Sam's apparent enjoyment of being here. She watches me as I set up the lights around the front of the barn, and plug them into the generator. When I flip the red switch, the lights some to life, illuminating the front of the barn. Sam moans and shields her face with her arms. She crouches down behind me.

"Turn down the damn lights, Fredward!"

I pull the blue remote out of my pocket and press down on the last button. The lights immediately dim. I'm rather proud of this little technical feat. I crane my neck around and see Sam still behind me, hiding her face against my back. I smirk before I say, "You're good now." She looks around hesitantly then decides the light is not so blinding anymore. She slowly scoots away from me.

I balance the camcorder and the laptop on the tripod's plane. I scroll down through the latest searches in my search engine. 'Okie Fanokie' is the fifth one down. 'Pics of ham', 'The Cuddlefish', 'pirate terminology', and 'bojitsu' all come before it. Sam must have used it recently. I click on the link that brings me to a web page containing the information we need on the old barn. I zoom in, so I can still read the text on the screen when I take my place by Sam in front of the camera. I press another button on the blue remote, and the red light on the camera flickers to life.

"Hey guys. Welcome to iCarly." I press the applause button after I say this. Sam then proceeds in ripping the remote out of my hand, smacking the back of my head with it, and pressing the applause button again. She holds it down a full eleven seconds longer than I did. She's glaring at me the whole time, daring me to make a move. I decide to stand perfectly still. There's probably enough stuff out here that is willing to kill me, and Sam doesn't need to be added to that list.

"Er...I'm Freddie." A string of 'boo's' then follow.

"I'm Sam." She gives the camera a lazy half-wave with her treasured blue remote.

"Okay, so this is the barn we promised you." I motion to the frightening structure looming behind me. "We are going to determine whether or not it's haunted."

"It's called _Okie Fanokie," _Sam states.

Then I continue, "Now, I'm sure you are all wondering what this name means-,"

"And, no, it's not a breakfast cereal. Don't worry, I thought that too."

I look down at Sam. "Would you at least _try _to stick to the script? Just this once?"

"No promises there, Fredison." Of course not.

I sigh. "Okay, well the 'Okie' part is a," I squint at the computer screen as I read aloud, "a term, dating from as early as 1907 originally denoting a resident or native of Oklahoma. It is derived from the name of the state, similar to _Texan _or _Tex _for someone from Texas, or _Arkie _or _Arkansawyer _for a native of Arkansas." Sam decides to give my statement her own little Sam-ish effect by yawing loudly.

"And Fanokie," she begins, "is some dude." That's not part of the script either.

"He's a dude who owned this barn you see behind us. He was an Okie," I quickly inform the camera.

"And his hobbies include raping small girls and lynching black people." Sam presses the 'boo' button again. "Now let's get to 'splorin!" I pick up the camera and film her as she walks toward the barn. Then I turn back to the laptop and minimize the sight I have pulled up. I'm turning to follow Sam, when something on the screen catches my eye. It's still the Christmas picture of Carly she had set as my wallpaper. But I notice something about this picture for the first time. In the picture, on the other side of the Christmas tree, there seems to be some commotion going on. It's me, in curled up in fetal position, and Sam, glaring at me with a wooden bat raised above her Santa Clause hat-covered head. I rub my neck as I recall the painful memory. But I smile, in spite of myself, and turn back to the barn.

"Now here's the real story," I start. My words are merely commentary, as I am off screen now. I turn the camera toward Sam as she karate kicks her way into the barn. This makes for an interesting shot. I step over the mess of wood that was a door not more than a second ago, and follow her inside. "Fanokie," I continue, "is the name of a man who lived in the early 1900's. He owned this land here, outside of Seattle. He eventually killed his family, after his wife found out he was abusing a little girl who stayed with them. He was kind of a nut-case."

"And Freddo here is well on his way to following in Fanokie's footsteps," Sam says as she scans the entrance room.

"But probably not," I say. "It's been awhile since I've abused a little girl."

"That's good Fred. Stay strong man." She pulls her knife from her pocket sweats and glances around.

"According to the legend, she was a crazy little girl. They had to keep her locked up. She liked to watch the lynchings from the attic room they kept her in." I turn to Sam. "Probably a relative of yours." Luckily, she is too enveloped in carving her name on the wall to pay attention to me. "The only toy the little girl had to play with was a bag of marbles. So, supposedly, you should still be able to hear them clicking if you listen carefully." I cup my hand over my left hear for a moment, then conclude, "Nope, nothing. You ready to leave now Sam?"

Sam doesn't pay any attention to me. She quietly creeps down the hallway. I follow silently after her, not sure why we are being silent. I mean, it's not like there's anyone else here, right? I hear a floorboard creak to my left and hurry to catch up with Sam. I slowly circle the camera around the perimeter of the barn. There are cobwebs everywhere. We are still standing in the hall, trying to figure out our next move. To my left it looks like there are some old horse stables. To my right, there appears to be a small kitchen minus the appliances. I guess it was common back then to have the house and the barn one in the same. I carefully step over a broken floorboard and turn the camera back to Sam. She is scaling up an unsteady looking ladder leading to a mysterious dark abyss. The lighting I have set up does not reach the second floor.

"Careful!"

She stops and turns around with an amused look on her face. "I'm fine, dork. Did you bring the night vision goggles?"

Oops. "Oh, no. I forgot them."

"Even with the checklist?" Sam smirks. "The crazy Mrs. B would be very disappointed in you."

I pull the flashlight out of my pocket and hand it to her. She sneezes on my hand as she reaches for it. She still has that cold. My lip curls as I wipe my palm across the rotted wood wall. I hand her a tissue this time.

"Thanks, Benson." She continues up the ladder. I follow, making sure to film my feet and not ther two back pockets in my favorite blue sweatpants. I try, and fail, to look away myself. Sam pulls herself up onto the next floor, actually turning to help me up too. Or, that's what it looked like. What she did was shine the flashlight in my eyes, causing me to slip back down a few steps.

"Sam!"

She smirks. "Careful, dork!" I huff angrily as I, too, pull myself up. She shines the flashlight around the room, then up at the arched ceiling. "Hmm...Fredward? How do you feel about bats?"

I gulp. "Love em'."

"That's probably a good thing," she says as she shines the light toward the wall to our left. "Do you see that door?" I follow the direction she's pointing with my eyes in the camera, seeing the door on the screen.

"The one with the giant red 'x' on it? That's chained shut? Yes."

"Let's go see what's inside." Sam starts toward the door.

I catch her arm and swing her back. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down, Speedy. Note the _giant red 'x'_ and _chains_."

"Oh come on! There could be something-," she ducks as a large bat swoops over her, "-good in there."

I run my fingers through my hair. "That's what I'm afraid of."

She looks directly into the camera. "I'm sorry, dear viewers, that Freddo is such a pansy."

"I'm not a pansy, I just enjoy living."

"Come _on, _Benson!"

I decide to further make my point by walking toward the far wall.

"Fine." Sam doesn't follow me. I hear a clutter of chains. Then it sounds like she breaks down the door, God only knows how. I resist the temptation of the good footage and continue my safe journey to the far wall, when there's a loud snapping noise. I immediately know that something is wrong. I drop my camera and spin around in time to see Sam in the forbidden room, falling through the floorboards. I lunge forward, reaching out desperately. I somehow manage to catch hold of her hands. I lay perfectly still on my stomach, grasping her both her hands tightly, to afraid to move.

I hear Sam's frantic voice, "Pull me up! Come on, dork!" I inhale as I slowly rise to my feet, bringing her up with me. When most of her top half is past the floor, I wrap my arms around her and pull her into me. Then I stagger back a little and fall to the ground. Sam come's down on top of me. Now, you might think that the most important issue going through my mind at the moment is the fact that I could've broken through the old floorboards just then, but it's not. Not when Sam's lips are this close to mine. She puts her hands on my chest to support herself. She has a weird look in her eyes as her mouth opens and she leans forward slightly. Then her eyes close. Out of eager instinct, I follow suit. And _then_...

She sneezes. In my face. She sneezes. I just mistook a sneeze for...well...Did she she really just _sneeze_?

I grimace as I wipe away her cold's residue with my sleeve. I sigh as I push her off me. She sneezes again, then rolls over and doesn't look like she's going to make an attempt to get up any time soon. I pick her up and carry her to the bed in the corner of the room, careful to stay on the perimeter as the middle of the floor has proven to be unsafe.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

She stands up and dusts off her front. Then she looks at me and pulls anxiously at her collar. "I'm fine." She's watching me with a look that's impossible to read. I reluctantly go back out to get the camera, which still lay strewn on the floor. I dust it off, then carefully walk back into the stuffy _red 'x' _room, side stepping the giant whole about the size of Sam. She stands up, then flops back down on the ancient bed. She looks a little disgruntled when her momentum only carries through one bounce. I take in the room with my camera. There's a small, rotted dresser in the far corner. More cobwebs on the pointed ceiling. The wall to the right of me has a small square window. The full moon watches us from the other side. This was the window that I had seen from the outside. We must be in the attic room.

"Hey look at this!" I carefully walk over to where Sam is. She's found a small nook that leads back into a small hallway, which she excitedly starts down.

"Haven't we had _enough _fun for one day?"

"Oh, don't be such a baby!" She grabs my wrist and drags me and the camera along behind her. "We still haven't answered the question."

"I'm pretty sure it's not haunted, Sam." We come to a small clearing at the end of the hall. It's even darker and stuffier back here.

"What do you-," Sam suddenly stops. I can feel her holding her breath. Then, I here a small 'clinking' noise, like rocks clicking together...or 'gulp'...marbles. I follow the light from Sam's shaking hand to the corner of the small room. The gaunt face of a long-dead man smiles up at me.

I sputter for a second, then manage to say, "Le-let's get out of here!"

Sam suddenly smiles. "Dude! Jackpot." She kneels down next to the clothed skeleton. "You must be Fanokie!"

"Urgh. Sam, don't _touch _it," I say sharply.

She looks up at me, rather offended. "Him! _Him_! Not _it_!"

"Fine! Don't touch him." But she, of course, completely ignores me. She takes off the dead man's hat and smiles as she places it on my head.

"Ew!" I shake my head frantically and the hat flutters to the ground. "Come on! Let's go!"

Sam crosses her arms an eyes me with a well-practiced look of defiance. Just as she is about to yell in return, there's a loud cracking sound. The floor breaks out from under us. This is so sudden, neither of us have time to scream. At some point in the fall, I let go of the camera. Luckily, Sam breaks it's fall. And I break Sam's fall. Fanokie lands on the very top of our little pile.

"Sam...get off," I say weakly as I try to roll to my side. She stands up, filming my painful groaning with the camera.

"Way to catch me Fredward!" She presses the _applause_ button on the blue remote.

"Don't mention it," I mumble up to her from the ground. My eyes are shut tight, and I'm rubbing my back where most of the pain seems to have accumulated. Then I feel something cold touch my face. I open my eyes to find myself nose-to-nose with none other than Fanokie. I scoot away hastily. Sam pulls me to my feet.

"Here," she hands me the camera. Her hand lingers on mine. She's looking up at me with another weird look. I brace myself for sneezing. But it doesn't come. She's just looking at me, chewing the corner of her bottom lip indecisively. Without thinking, I drop the camera and slowly bring my hands to her face. Maybe it will help speed up her decision making."Well," she says. "Lean." I smile at a fond memory as I do just that. My lips brush lightly against hers, when a voice calls out "HEY! You kids!"

I catch a glimpse of Sam's frustrated expression before she spins around. She takes a protective stance in front of me. I'm a little taken aback by this, not sure exactly how to react. So I decide that I may as well enjoy her protection. I put my hands on her shoulders, and hide behind her.

"What are you kids doin' out here?" I look out from behind Sam and see a rather large man only a few feet away from where we stand in the debris covered entrance. He has his hand on a gun holster at his belt. I feel Sam go rigid as she realizes the man's a cop.

I step out from behind her and pick up the camera. It's still on. "We were just filming a web show."

The cop raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh, so that's what you kids call it these days?"

Sam speaks up this time. "Excuse me, _it_?"

The cop laughs. "Well yeah! Let's see, what could two teenage kids be doing out in an abandoned barn all alone? _Hmmm_..."

Sam does not enjoy his sarcasm. I see her nostrils flare out. "Well Officer," she squints her eyes at his gleaming badge, "_Donald_. Mind if I call you Donnie?" She doesn't wait for his reply. "Well, Donnie, we will just be getting out of your way now."

"Oh no you don't! You kids are past curfew. Not to mention, destruction of private property!" He brings his hands to his belt buckle and sucks in his gut, puffing out his chest. Sam shakes her head at the naive cop.

"You know, I like you Donnie. You don't want to do this to yourself." Sam glances to her left. My eyes follow hers to a long wooden rod sticking out from a pile of debris. It must've been part of the floor support from upstairs. Sam and I have a silent exchange, and I slowly inch toward it.

"Oh really?" The cop laughs heartily. "And what is a little girl like you gonna do?"

Right as Sam yells, "This!" I kick the wooden rod up to her. She twirls it around with random expertise like she had on iCarly a few weeks ago. Officer Donald staggers back in surprise, but not far enough to get out of the way of Sam's blow. She brings the rod down hard on the cop's bald head. Then she jabs it into his gut. Finally, she swings it at his feet, causing him to go down. He sends dust and wood up around him as he hits the ground. He doesn't move. Maybe he shouldn't have of called her 'little girl'.

Sam coughs as she waves the dusty air away from her face. "Did you get all that?" she asks.

I pat my camera fondly. "Yup. Now let's get out of here." We pack up the equipment and head out to Batman, who Sam informs me she just renamed, 'The Getaway.'

I'm about ready to peel out of here, when Sam yells, "Wait! I forgot something!" She gets out and walks back into the barn, not bothering to go around the unconscious Donnie. He wheezes as she steps on his belly. She returns shortly with a large bundle in her arms.

"No!"

"Yes!" she says. She sets Fanokie in my back seat, being sure to buckle him in.

I sigh and shake my head frustratedly. It's going to be fun getting Fanokie's stench out of my seat. It's silent the whole way home. I look over at Sam, who is staring out the window. I wonder if she is thinking the same thing I am.

_Did we really just almost kiss_?

* * *

**Ok....that took forever....let me know if you think it gets to long and boring. It seems long...it took a long time. Oh, and if you want my address so you can stand outside my house with torches and pitchforks because I am a jerk and had to tease you with an almost-kiss/sneeze thing _twice_, just ask me...I most likely will not give it to you though....ok...And don't worry, I'm ****just building up for the actual kiss, if it ever comes, which it most likely won't. Kidding! Maybe. Sorry, I'm such a jerk today.  
**

** Next chapter is a Sam PoV...Okay, thanks! Bye!........................................ **

**Ok...can't help myself...hints for the next chapter include these words:**

_Party, alchohol, Fanokie, flashback, blue, and handcuffs_**....let the guessing begin....**


	9. I'm feeling blue

**Okay, I realize that when I mention basketball starting in this chapter, it's not the right time of the year. I already said it's sometime after Christmas, so I'm sorry if that bothers you terribly. **

**This chapter is broken up into a few different scenes. First part is a Sam flashback to the night of Okie Fanokie after Freddie drops her off at home. She's in her room. Second scene is about a month after Okie Fanokie. Then the other scenes are around that same time. There is a small snippet of a Freddie PoV in here too. **

**Sorry if there are errors. I rushed through proofing again. And a komodo dragon is a giant lizard type thing...just in case you didn't know...which I hope most of you do...Okay, enjoy. Then when your done enjoying, review. Heh.**

**

* * *

**_"Freddie. _Freddie_. Freeeeddddiiieee.__" I don't use the this seven letter word often, but rolls off my tongue with ease. It tastes good too. Like a Fat cake. No, _two _Fat Cakes. Two Fat Cakes sandwiching a piece of ham. Mmmmm...I __do love sandwiches. I pick up the sandwich sitting on my bed, and reassure it that I was not trying to be neglectful, before taking a satisfactory bight. Mmmm....Wait. Ew. The sandwich makes me think of Freddo. With shaking hands, I set it back down and push the plate away. This is a definite first, for both my actions _and_ thoughts. I sit on the floor and lean my head back on my bed. I sneeze, then smirk, then think of Fredward again. I shake my head violently, trying to rid it of its contents. Then I feel dizzy, so I lay on the floor. I'm not going to think about Freddie. I'm not thinking about him. His dorkish self is not crossing my mind at this very moment. No thoughts containing Freddington going on right now. Then I hear a voice from somewhere in my head. Probably my conscience, but I can't be too sure as it rarely comes around to visit. The voice says_ you're still thinking about him_._

_I exhale with frustration. Come on Sam. Self control. I take a few deep breaths, filling my mind with thoughts of ham and Cooper's smile. This seems to work. Yes. Both are very distracting and delicious. I continue riding this train of thought, until it is abruptly knocked off the tracks. I notice that the blue clock hanging up on my wall has suddenly decided to work again. It begins its incessant ticking. I huff and roll over as I try to block it out. I continue my thinking. _Ham...boyishly cute half-grins_. But the ticking continues. I take the clock down and set it in the hall, then slam my door shut. But the ticking is still audible. It reminds me of that blind old man tapping his cane a few weeks ago. This reminds me of texting Cooper, which reminds me of the rain. The rain reminds me of my cold. My cold reminds me of a sneeze. The sneeze makes a picture of Freddo float into my mind. _Dear God. The clock ticks, and I think of Dorkbay. _I grab the clock from the hall and throw it out my open window. I watch it crash to the concrete below, then wipe my hands together, satisfied. But a certain brown-eyed dork remains in my head. And I don't mind him being there. This is all very new and confusing._

_But confusion is nothing new. I've been confused before._

Who_ could have a but as saggy as Mr. Ordway's?_

What_ is the slimy green substance I just found under my bed?_

When_ will I find an efficient way to open the airtight seals that package ham?_

Where _did I put my unfinished burrito last week?_

_I sigh as I continue the little project I've started in the middle of my bedroom floor. Twelve dollars and thirty six cents worth of superglue was definitely worth thousands of new pranks, the devious planning already beginning to take place in my mind. I grab Fanokie's jaw bone from the pile and apply a heavy layer of the clear glue. This is probably a bit wasteful. I shrug. The twelve dollars is Freddie's money anyways. I keep telling him to hide his money where other people don't have such easy access. Then he tells me that his wallet shouldn't be _easy access_._

Why_ did I almost kiss the dork tonight?_

_I groan as I reach for the largest bone in the pile. I think this is called the femur, but, then again, I failed my chapter four Biology quiz on the skeletal system. I try to decide where this bone fits best. Now, I'm wishing I might've paid a bit more attention. Stupid Freddwardo sits in front of me in that class, so I'm usually spending most of my time torturing him. Like earlier this week, when I thought it might be amusing to pass notes to headgear Unice, who sits behind me, telling her they're from Freddie. Mostly, they consist of sketched hearts containing her and Freddo's initials. Then, when I'm feeling exceptionally wily, I will hold a marker by his face from behind, just out of his eye shot. Then I will make variations of loud and annoying sounds in his ear, and as he turns to yell at me, the marker tip grazes across his face. Get's him every time too. On Tuesday the mark ended up between his bottom lip and his nose. It looked like a mustache. So I congratulated him, loud enough for the rest of the class to hear, on finally growing some facial hair. That one earned me a ticket to room 209 after hours. But it was completely worth it to see the dork's exasperated expression followed by an "Urgh."_

_I remember now that the femur goes in the leg. Too late. Oh well. Fanokie's left arm is just going to be a little longer than his right._

"Sorry Fanokie."_ He doesn't say anything, but he gives me a look that let's me know I'm forgiven._

_I smile as I recall a few more pranks from Biology class. I can't believe he actually went a whole day that one time without knowing there was a wad of gum on his butt! Heh. I am a genius. Hmmm...I miss all the pranks. They help me get into the right frame of mind: Freddork=enemy. They needed to continue. Oh, yes. The pranks would continue. In fact, they would be put into overdrive._

_Fanokie and I exchange mischievous glances as we begin the planning. _

_-------------------------------------------------------- _

I was spending a lot more time in Freddie's room these days. Every time I knew he wasn't home, I'd waltz over to 8D, pick the lock, and sneak past Crazy into the dork's nerd-cave. That's where I find myself right now. I'm trying to remember where he keeps his sweatpants. I'm actually returning the blue ones, after holding them captive for about a month. I open a drawer and set them carefully inside. Before I came here, I was at home, practicing my wife-skills. I've never sewed anything before, but I thought _how hard can it be_? I stitched a little something into the back of his pants. Freddwardo will be in for a surprise next time he puts them on. Then, out of habit mostly, I grab another pair of sweats. They are black this time. I look at Fanokie, who is sitting on Freddo's bed. I brought him with me on this particular trip to Freddo's room. Freddie will be pleased to have the company when he gets home. But this still isn't enough. I haven't hit Freddie hard enough with a prank yet today. Though I did give Unice his number. I bet she's texting him about the quadratic formula or something as we speak. Heh. But...still not enough.

I look around the room for inspiration. I set the Fat Cake I'm holding next to his computer and my hands travel to my pockets, revealing their contents. A gum wrapper, a button, some lent, another Fat Cake, and two lifesavers. I sigh. Not much to work with. I put one of the lifesavers in my mouth. Then the other one follows, but before I swallow it, a thought comes to me. Heh. _Perfect_. I spit the lifesaver back into my hand and walk into Freddo's bathroom.

I open the shower curtain revealing a very familiar shower. Because I once went a week being handcuffed to the dork, I have used this shower more than I would've liked to (that being never). I can't believe I didn't think about picking the lock on the cuffs! But, we won't go there again. I have beaten myself up about that a great deal already. I step into the bath tub and reach up to unscrew the the shower head on the spout. Then a powdery blue bar falls out. Oh yeah! I put that in there this morning. We decided to turn Gibby blue a few years ago on iCarly. Just add water, apply to skin, and this stuff did the trick. I stole it from the iCarly props when no one was looking and...presto, the perfect prank. But, this is not enough. I'm going to use the lifesaver as well. I have a _sticky _feeling it'll add something to the genius prank. I place the lifesaver in the the shower spout with the blue powdery bar then screw the metal head back on. Then I look around the bathroom. I'm still not satisfied. I see his green toothbrush sitting on the marble sink. I pick it up and look at it. _Should I dip it into the toilet?_ No. It's a toilet, but the water is still clean. _Should I brush my own teeth with it?_ This won't work either. I mean, dork-boy seemed pretty keen on sharing my germs at Okie Fanokie. Stupid, interrupting cop. Wait! Come on Sam. Get a grip kid. I quickly push this thought out of my mind. Hmmm...I bring the toothbrush with me as I walk back into his room. Fanokie looks at me. _Here we go_. I gently open his jaw, and place the green tooth brush inside.

"Lookin' good Fanokie!" He smiles. Okay, that should be enough for one day. Then again....

I dig through Freddorkington's underwear drawer, and pull out a pair of red plaid boxers. Heh. This prank will be epic. I laugh when I notice he's still got the handcuffs in here. Then I see something brown and leathery hiding behind a pair of Christmas boxers. I grab his wallet and extract a twenty, shaking my head at dear Freddo. The kid was going to have to learn not to leave his stuff lying around. You can consider my actions to be a lesson for him.

"Samantha?" Ooh. Not good. I know that can't be Freddo, first of all because he would never dare use my full name. And second of all, the nub decided he was going to try out for the basketball team, and miraculously made it. He was at practice everyday after school now. I find myself alone on the Shay's couch, waiting for Carly, quite a bit these day. So if it wasn't Fred...

I turn around. "Hello, Mrs. B. How are you?"

"Erm..fine. I hope you don't mind my asking what you are doing in my son's room?" She crosses her arms and eyes me reproachfully.

She's so damn protective of her stupid little dork. Of _my _stupid little dork. She doesn't look too thrilled to see me. She never is. I slip the underwear into my back pocket and do some quick thinking.

"I-I'm in dear Freward's room?" I look around the room, confused. "I hit my head, and I'm afraid that I don't remember how I got here." I look down at my feet all pathetic like, appealing to her prominent motherly side.

She takes the bait. "Aww...I'm _so _sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"Well," I look away so she won't see my smirk. "I am rather hungry. You see, my mother never feeds me." I know for a fact that Crazy is always concerned about my home life, so this helps a great deal.

"Oh, Samantha dear! I'm willing to help any friend of Freddie's. Here," she grabs my arm and pulls me along to the kitchen. Luckily, her concern for my made up situation stops her from noticing Fanokie on Freddie's bed. I look back at him and smile triumphantly. We would have a good laugh about this later.

So Crazy offers me some cake. And at the word _cake_ she's got me being all polite and giving all of these complements. She thinks the new brain-damaged Samantha is absolutely the most pleasant little thing she's ever seen. I chat her up a bit while she cuts me a piece of cake. I gratefully take a bight, savoring the taste in my mouth. "Good?" she asks.

I nod quickly. Then when she turns around, I spit it out into my napkin. "It's cucumber bran cake, with sugar-free frosting made from goat's milk. It's a very delicious and nutritious snack. I could give the recipe to you for your mother, if you'd like."

"Oh, that would be wonderful." When she turns back to the counter again, I chuck the cake into Freddie's room. It lands on the chair at his desk. I hope he doesn't look before he sits down."Well, I better be going." But Crazy is not about to let me walk home. Not in the state I'm in. Or _not _in really. She offers me a ride, and I accept reluctantly. Usually, my lazy self would be very happy to get out of walking the fifteen blocks to my house, but not when the other option includes riding in a car with Crazy.

As I climb into the front seat of her small environment-saving vehicle (I make a mental note that it is now named 'Little Squirt'), I ask her, "So when does dear Fredward get home from basketball practice?"

She's not exactly happy at the mention of this. She did not approve of Freddie's 'running on slick floors, playing with dirty balls, and rubbing up on sweaty boys', as she would say. "Six," she mumbles angrily.

I nod. Just another hour or so, and Freddie would meet his fate in the shower. My phone vibrates. It's cooper. **Hey. Party tonight night at Rocko's place. You in? **

**Duh. Pick me up at Carly's later**, I reply.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Hey. Freddie here. As Sam has informed you, I have made the basketball team. Don't look surprised! I'm a lot taller than I used to be. And I'm more coordinated. Plus, I've been practicing on the old chain-netted hoop behind the apartment every time Sam bothers me and I need to let off steam, which is a lot these days. She seems to have gotten more aggressive with her pranking since Okie Fanokie. She can be so immature. So I just got home from practice. Cooper was late, so Coach Jeffreys made us run killers almost the entire time. I am not in a very good mood when I arrive at home. But it did help my mood that my mother was out grocery shopping. She left a note for me on the counter, "_Dear Freddie, there is some leftover cucumber cake in the fridge. But you only need one piece as I fear you are eating way too much these days_." She saw me eating a Fat Cake I took from Sam the other day, and has been cutting my meals down since then to make up for my slip. I sniff the cake with a frustrated sigh. Was that goat's cheese? I read the rest of the note, "_And please stay away from anything remotely pointy. I love you, Mother_."

I walk into my room and set my bag on the floor. I drop to my bed gratefully. Then I feel someone watching me. I look to my left slowly. Fanokie is staring at me. Oh, and he seems to be enjoying my toothbrush. I rip it from his jaw, then hastily look through my drawers. My blue sweats have been returned, but sure enough, the black one's are now missing. And my wallet is not wrapped in my lucky Christmas boxers. I look inside. There's a twenty missing. Then I find a piece of my mom's cake on my wheely chair. To top it off, there's a Fat Cake sitting next to my computer. It appears the blonde bandit has struck again. Last time, she rubbed lotion all over everything in my room. The doorknobs, the computer, and all of the pens in the cup at my desk. So, I didn't get anything done that night which included the use of one of those three things, as they were incredibly slippery. And she lotioned every inch of my bathroom. I had to shower in my mother's disturbing pink and decorative bathroom. The memory still sends s chills down my spine.

So I'm walking around the room, looking for anything that looks remotely like a trap. After searching the room (this includes tearing up my bed, taking apart the desk, emptying my drawers, and even checking my laptop for recent files uploaded...once she saved a picture of a naked eighty-year-man and made sure my mother found it), I decided it was time to take a shower. The warm water feels especially good on my sore and stressed out body today. When I've finished cleaning myself up, I decide to text Rocko and tell him I'm not coming to the party. I knew for a fact that I would be the only sober one in the place, and The Getaway would not appreciate my being the designated driver of forty-plus people.

I lay down again, and drift to sleep. I hope Fanokie doesn't mind me only being wrapped in a towel as we share the bed. I'm in the middle of an exceptionally scary nightmare about finding out that Sam's prank consists of a an irritated komodo dragon in my closet, when I'm violently shaken awake.

"Wake up Freddork!"

"Urgh. Sam, go away," I murmur sleepily. "You're in my dreams enough." I roll away from her, a bit to close for comfort with the skeleton.

"I see you and Fanokie have had some male bonding. Should I be concerned?" I mumble again for her to leave, but she doesn't seem to hear me. "Oh, and nice towel."

That wakes me up. "Er..." I sit up and wrap my comforter around my shoulders. At least the towel hadn't fallen off. Sam has this crazy grin on her face as she looks me up and down.

"What?" I ask, growing a little self conscious.

She just shrugs. "Nothing." Though I know it's not _nothing_ when a triumphant smirk takes over her face.

"Whatever. Now, excuse me while I put some clothes on."

"Please do," she says as I close the bathroom door behind me. I slip into a pair of jeans, then look into the mirror at my half-naked body. The image I see causes me to yell, "SAM!"

I burst out of the bathroom door. "Sam! You-you...you,"

"Turned your skin blue?" she offers.

I look down at my bare torso again. It is in fact a light shade of blue, as is the rest of me. It wasn't noticeable when I first got out of the shower, but while I was asleep the blue seemed to have soaked into my skin. "How?" I manage to ask weakly.

"Heh. That's for me to know, kid." She smiles brightly as I touch my blue stomach and tear my hand off with difficulty. I'm sticky too. She smirks as she places her hand on my cheek. My blue skin suddenly comes in useful, as I feel myself blush. She tries to pull it away, but it proves to be stuck. So here we are. I'm blue and sticky, and her hand is stuck to my cheek. She adds a little more force to her efforts, and detaches her hand. It makes a little crackling noise as she pulls it free. My cheek is left with a sharp stinging pain. "It worked! You're sticky! I love lifesavers!"She smirks, again. "I suggest that you thoroughly examine you shower before you take another one."

I glare at her. "Why do you do these things to me?"

She shrugs. "Enjoyment?"

"You're sick. You're real sick."

She, of course, takes this like a complement. "Thank you."

"Why are you even here?"

"I was eating dinner at Carly's and I came over to see the after effects of my genius." She smirks again. "And I am not disappointed. Me and Fanokie planned this one all out."

I look at Fanokie. "Of course, the only thing you actually put any effort toward in your life…and it's gluing a dead criminal's bones together so he can plot against me with you."

Her hand cover the sides of Fanokie's skull where his ears were about ninety years prior. "Don't listen to the mean little nub-boy, Fanokie."

"He's dead Sam! Stop talking to him!"

"_Lies_..." Sam whispers soothingly to the skeleton.

"You can leave now."

"Oh really? Can I?" she says, with a mocking thankful tone. "As much as I'd like to stick around and watch you be blue," she laughs at her pun, "I have a party to attend."

"Rocko's," I ask, a little concerned.

"The very same," she says happily. I wonder if she knew what was going to be going on there. She probably does, and it probably doesn't bother her. She _is_ Sam.

"You can't go," I tell her.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." I slip an orange hoody over my head.

"Ha! Yeah right! You can't tell me what to do." She smirks again. Urgh. That smirk is going to be forever imprinted in my mind. "The orange really complements the blue. You're welcome for that one."

"Sam, come on. You know that's not a very safe scene. I just don't want you to get hurt."

It takes her a second of hesitation to realize I'm still hung up on the party. She seems a little surprised at my caring about what happens to her. She frowns and crosses her arms. "Cooper's gonna be there."

I shake my head. This doesn't comfort me. "Cooper isn't really...well, I mean he's my friend and all, but...Look, you could just stay here. I'll buy you a cheeseburger."

Her eyes flash in excited temptation. "Two. No, three cheeseburgers." I'm nodding eagerly when she catches herself. She sighs. "Well, I'm going. You can't stop me Freddork."

I pull out my phone and begin texting Coop. "Sam doesn't want to go anymore," I say aloud as I text. I hold the phone up to Sam's face and press the 'send' button down hard for emphasis.

She wastes no time in whipping her phone out too. "Don't listen to the dork," she says. "He's just being a creeper." Then she presses the 'send' button down harder and glares at me, daring me to make a move.

"Fine. I will just hold you here by force." I wrap an arm around her and drag her into my bathroom.

"Why are you doing this?" her voice calls from the other side of the door that I'm holding shut. _Because you don't need to be hanging out with a jerk like Cooper, and you don't need to be put in the situations that are sure to come tonight. Not when you could just stay here with me_, I think. But what I say is, "Because you turned me blue and sticky. I hate being sticky!"

Before she can answer, I hear my mom call, "Fredward! I'm home!"

"'Kay mom!" I call back. Then I notice my bedroom door is wide open. Unless I want the tick bath of a lifetime, I better not let her see me like this. Discoloration and stickiness don't go over so well with Mom. Sam has given up on trying to open the door from the other side for a few minutes now. I decide to take the seemingly safe risk and I quietly creep across the floor and close my bedroom door. I turn around and bump into something. Then I feel two metal clasps click around my wrists.

It seems that while my back was turned, Sam managed to get out of the bathroom and grab the handcuffs out of my underwear drawer. It was scary that she knew exactly where to find them. So my hands are now cuffed together. And it looks like Sam had already thought to wrap the chain around the headboard of my bed before she cuffed me. I pull away desperately, but I'm stuck.

"Sorry Freddington, but you had that one coming to you. I better go. Cooper's gonna be here soon." She pats my left cheek (her hand sticks a little) before leaving the room.

I try earnestly to free myself for about ten minutes, before my Mom finally calls, "Is everything alright in there? You need any help?"

I catch a glimpse of my blue reflection in the mirror, and thoughts of fierce bathing fill my head. "Nope! I'm good!" I call back. Then I pull with more force at the cuffs chained to my bed. This shakes Fanokie a little, who is giving me a silent contemptuous look. His jaw makes a clanking sound as it slides to the left. He mocks me with his lopsided smile. "Shut up Fanokie!"

And this goes on for about three hours. My desperate attempts to break free, my constant reassuring my mother that 'I'm good', and my yelling at Fanokie (who is admittedly not a very active participant in our arguments). I'm leaning against the headboard, exhausted, when my phone rings. Sam's smirk pops up on the screen. Like I'm going to answer. Sam can just screw herself. Then an uncomfortable thought comes to me. Maybe she won't have to screw _herself_. I'm sure there would be many drunken guys there willing to do it for her. So, I answer the phone.

-----------------------------------------------------

"Hello?" Heh. Even the sound of his voice is dorkish.

"Hey Fred..." I suddenly fall off the chair I'm sitting on. Then I burst out into a fit of frantic giggles, and I don't quit until my sides ache too bad to carry on. I heave a heavy sigh as I try to catch my breath. "You're...sounding...dorky," I say.

"Sam? Are you okay?"

"Ah...m'fine....m'good...now why are you calling me, Freddo?"

"You're drunk Sam."

"Mmmm..._naw_!" I walk away from a guy offering me a can. I already shotgunned three of em'! What more did they want from me? "Aren't you supposed to be cuffed? How'd'ya answer your phone?" I ask.

"My chin. It's on speaker, so don't say anything you don't want Fanokie to hear."

This makes me break out into another fit of laughter, but it's cut short when a blurry figure looms toward me. Again.

"What do you want?" Freddie asks.

"Erm...uh," the dark figure wraps his arms around me and begins kissing my neck, as if we are the only two in the crowded room. I stiffen. Cooper isn't himself when he's drunk. Suddenly, I remember why I am calling. "Freddo, could you come pick me up?"

"I can't."

I lean away from Cooper. "It's raining! You said, you'd come pick me up if it was raining!" It is unlikely that he will remember the texting conversation from a few months ago.

"Yes, I remember." But he does. He's a dork like that. "But you kind of handcuffed me to my bed."

Cooper's hands snake down my back. "Oh, yeah." I groan. Cooper thinks this is do to his actions. He takes my hand and tries to lead me to a nearby room. "Cut it out, Coop!"

"What's he doing?" Freddie asks quickly.

"Could you maybe...get out somehow? I really need a ride." I try to push Cooper away again.

"How?" His voice is frantic now. Still dorkish, but frantic.

"Uh," I side-step my drunken pursuer. "Pick it?"

"I already tried that Sam. It didn't work."

"Listen to me dork!" Cooper comes at me again. "Just let me guide you through it!"

"Alright, alright. I don't have many hair clips lying around. Will a pen work?"

"Yeah...just," I duck under Cooper's reaching arms and take off down an empty hallway, "stick it in the keyhole and wiggle it some." I listen as he does just that.

"'S no' worgin'," he says, the pen still in his mouth.

"Okay, move it to the left, then the right. Then the left two more times." I open a door at random and luckily find myself in an empty bathroom. "Then keep doing this a few times...it'll come loose."

I listen for a few minutes as Freddie follows my instructions. Finally, I hear the sudden clanking of chains. "I got it! Okay, I'm coming! I'll text you when I'm there." Then his line clicks and I'm alone. Someone knocks sharply on the door. "Get out of here!" I yell, in my best large-man-voice, which is actually pretty believable. The knocking stops. I heave a relieved sigh as I sit up on the sink. Then a dizzy feeling surges through my brain, and I fall in a heap to the cold floor. I decide it's probably safest if I stay down here. I groan as I stretch out against the blue and white tile. Finally, my phone vibrates. **Where are you?**

Without taking the time to answer his text, I whip open the door, and head for the front yard. I squint my eyes through the rain and see Freddie right away, still blue, on his tiptoes, scanning the crowd. I give him a lazy wave and a lopsided smile, which he doesn't return. He resembles his psychotic worrying mother as he envelopes me in a tight hug. I don't pull away. I allow the dork to suffocate me against his chest for a few seconds before he releases me. "Come on," he says, watching something going on behind me. I glance back and see Cooper intertwined with some girl, who seems happy to comply by his demands. Freddie frowns down at me. He puts his arm around my shoulders and guides me to the The Getaway. I note that his blue arm is sticky on the back of my neck. I smile up at him. "Feelin' a little blue, Fredward?" He doesn't think my joke is funny. He helps me into the front seat and buckles me in.

The ride home is silent. After Freddie asked me if I was okay, and I gave him my usual, "I'm fine," he doesn't say anything else. I lean against the window. It's cold and it feels good on my warm face. Even with the silence, I'm perfectly content. I sigh when he stops in front of my house. "Need me to walk you in?" he asks.

"Naw...I'm fine." I get out and stumble to the ground, giggle, then stand up again to find Freddie at my side. He puts his hands on my shoulders holds me steady as we make our way to the concrete porch.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asks, opening the front door for me.

"I'm fine! Stop turning into you're crazy mother!" I walk into my house and slam the door in his face. I immediately regret this. Why couldn't I just thank him? I sigh as I walk into the living room. "Mom!"

"She's not home," Sonny says. He's sitting on the couch, beer in hand, itching his revealed stomach.

Oh no. I begin to head up the stairs. Then I stumble. Sonny laughs at me. "You drunk, kid?"

"Get out!" I yell at him. I'm not sure why I just yelled this. I bet it has something to do with the fact that I am not a very stable point currently. I don't know. But I do know that I can't take one more minute of him being here.

Sonny stands up. "What did you say?"

"You heard me," I say weakly.

Sonny just grunts. Of course. That's all he's good for. I let him know this by punching his protruding gut. He glares down at me before pushing me against the wall. It's not a very forceful push, but it's enough for me to let out a surprised yelp. Then the front door flies open and a blue dork is standing in my living room. He shoves Sonny away from me. Through is inebriation, Sonny is quick to to shove Freddie back. Then, as he is about to land a punch on the heroic little nerd, he asks drunkenly, "Are...are you blue?" Freddie gives me an accusing sideways look, then he takes a protective stance in front of me.

Sonny just grunts. "You want her? Take her."

Freddie scrutinizes Sonny suspiciously for a second, then grabs my elbow and leads me back out to The Getaway. He, again, sits me in the front seat and buckles me in. He gets in an turns the key in the ignition. The car starts on his fifth try, and we head for his apartment building. "How'd you know to come inside?"

He looks over at me. "I saw your mom's car wasn't here. Decided to wait on the porch, just in case."

"You would wait on the porch, you creeper." He looks away. I sigh. "But thank you."

The rest of the ride is silent aside from the comforting sound of the rain drops against the roof of the car. It's only a few minutes before we are home. He helps me into the lobby, past Lewbert (who yells at him for being blue) and into the elevator. When we reach the eighth floor, he guides me to apartment 8C. "You want me to come in and explain?"

I don't like the thought of Carly seeing me in this state. I know she's just going to be angry and judgmental and jealous of my invitation to Rocko's party. "No...I...Can I stay at your place?"

Freddie looks surprised. "If...if that's what you wanna do." It wasn't that long ago when the thought of sleeping in Freddie's house was most definitely not my preference, but I guess things are just different now. Weird, I know. We have to sneak past Crazy into his room. Me, trashed...him, blue. Yeah she would freak. He closes the door behind him, and leans against it. He's watching me as I carefully set Fanokie on his chair. "Did he keep you company while you were cuffed?"

Freddie smiles. "Yes, actually." I guess he decided to forgive me. Hmm...maybe it's because I'm drunk and in his room and in need of some comfort. Then I snort at the thought of Freddie taking advantage of a girl. Heh. Or _anything_ for that matter. He's such a pansy-ass-nub.

I take Fanokie's place on the bed and yell at the dork to turn off the lights. He does, and then I feel the covers being pulled up around me. I smile as the blue dork timidly crawls in next to me.

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**Okay. Hope you guys liked it. My apologies for errors. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, as I'm gonna be busy the next few days. But I will try to get it up tomorrow or the next day. Okay, well I need to go. Heh. Sorry I can't stop writing about Fanokie. He's a very complex and interesting character to write. **

**And I know for a fact that lifesavers in your shower will make your sticky...experience...Pranking is a pastime of mine. I was glad to get some in there for Sam.**

**PS. There is going to be two more Freddie PoV's then possibly a epilogue and then it's over. Just so you know. **

**And the next chapter is called **You Are What You Eat**: In which Freddie eats a Fat Cake, and like his mother warns him, he gains eighty pounds...and Sam and Cooper run off together. Review! **

**AND I DID NOT REVIEW MY OWN STORY....there is a review from Basco 57 on this chapter...I just found out my loving and annoying brother, Brad, has been leaving me anonymous reviews under the name **_Itsme!!_**, as he is a very good writer himself and likes to help me out, and the other day, he forgot to log out of my account before reviewing....And low and behold, I check the reviews....and there's one from**_ Baso57_....**I am very annoyed at him right now....he is standing here watching me type this, rolling on the floor, laughing...and now he wants me to tell you guys he says "Hi." Oh, I feel so lame.....**

**g...and now he wants me to tell you guys he says "Hi." Oh, I feel so lame.....**


	10. birthday surprises

**Hello, how are you?  
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**You may notice that the school they attend is not called Ridgeway. I was unsure at the time I wrote this whether or not Ridgeway goes up to high school, but it apparently does, so I hope it doesn't bother you too terribly. Disclaimer: I declaim this. **  
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"Sam, get off me," I murmur sleepily. I'm in my bed, blue body clashing with blue bedspread, underneath Sam. She is sitting cross legged on top of my back. She doesn't move. She only wiggles her rear a bit, messing up my comfortable blanket situation. I'm not sure why, but this brings a certain recent and vivid dream to the front of my mind. Hmm...It had seemed so real too.

"Would you mind being quiet, Fredilina? Fanokie and I are in a very intense staring contest at the moment, and you are killing my concentration."

"Sorry," I mumble into the pillow. "Bet you twenty bucks that you lose."

"You are _so _on." She can never back down from a bet. Not even when the odds were against here...or if it's _physically impossible _for her to win. If only she would actually pay me when she loses one of these times. I would be doing alright as far as finances go.

So she goes back to staring, and I go back to sleeping. Or, I try to at least. She is humming while she is noisily snacking on an entire cake, and it's not even my mother's cucumber surprise. I am, as always, impressed with Sam's random food gathering abilities. I wonder where she got the cake. It wasn't my house, that's for sure. After my 'Fat Cake slip', Mom outlawed sugar completely.

Sam hums contently, again, as she takes another large bite of the brown cake. She is still staring at Fanokie who is chillin' out in my wheely chair. Sam seems a bit on the peppy side today, just a little more bubbly than her normal angry self. So, naturally, I'm scared.

"Why are you so happy? Shouldn't you, uh, be in a hangover, or something?"

"Oh, dear, naive little Freddie. You must be a lightweight." She smiles, still staring at Fanokie. I wouldn't know whether or not I am a lightweight, because no one has ever offered me a drink. But I don't voice this. I kind of like Sam not critisizing me, and I don't want to give her reason to now.

It's silent for awhile. I'm drifting in and out of sleep, recalling that certain dream. It's a very good one, I might add. Er...not good, uh, bad. Ah, who am I kidding? I liked it, and as much as I would love to deny that, I can't. According to my dream, Sam is more pleasant and less frightening when she sleeps. I reluctantly allow myself to go over the dream in my head, again and again, just delighted that Sam can't read minds, when she asks, "So Fredwardo...squeeze me tight enough last night?"

I thought so. _Way _too realistic to be a dream. "Uh, no...er, wait! Yes, no...umm-," she stops my sputtering by shoving a piece of the chocolaty cake into my mouth. _Mmmm...sugar...sweet, wonderful, embarrassment saving, sugar...I've missed you, baby. _The chorus of 'Peach & Herb''s 'Reunited and it feels so _good'_ plays through my mind. It's been awhile since my last sugar-filled sweet...

Is it just me, or am I reminding you of Sam this morning? Weird.

Sam. The three letter word pops up in my head a lot these days. Okay, 'pops up' is an understatement. How about 'runs my thought process' or 'controls my everything'...Nope. I've got it. She 'dominates my mind'. I feel her weighing down on my back. _Just like she dominates every other part of me_. And for reasons beyond me, I like it that way! This realization isn't too shocking this time. Not like it always used to be. No, it isn't a shock for me to think about Sam like this anymore. Not after last night.

When we had gotten home, drunk Sam decided it was time to pass out in my bed. So, like the good ol' handcuff days, I was squished up against the wall the whole night so there were a few precious inches between us. Well, almost the whole night. When I looked at my alarm clock and saw a blurry red _four, _and noticed the sun begin its climb over the horizon, I decided it was really time to get some sleep. I have a big game today. So, I took the risk and scooted away from the wall, a little bit closer to the aggressive blonde than before. Okay, so I was thinking, _this isn't so bad_, when her sleepy little self decided it was gonna totally throw me off and nuzzle into my chest. _Uh oh, now what? _Her new close-quartered sleeping position forced my left arm to be pressed uncomfortably against my side. The only way can I get comfortable again is by slowly, _slowly _placing my jammed arm around her shoulders. _Hey, this isn't so bad either_, I thought sleepily. In fact, this was so 'not bad' that I turned slightly toward her, and wrapped my right arm around her sleepy form as well. She seemed happy to reciprocate as she wiggled herself deeper into my embrace. I tucked my legs around her calves, thinking about how thankful I am that I decided to answer my phone (with my chin) earlier. Yet another unpleasant thought of Cooper and what _could've _happened at the party filled my sleepy head, and I felt myself tighten my grip around her shoulders. I pressed lips down against her cold forehead, where they would remain the rest of the night. Why do I remember this sleepy moment so vividly, you may ask. Let me figure that one out myself, and I'll get back to you. I _just _got used to the fact that I wasn't shocked anymore. What more do you want from me?

"Thanks," I say after I swallow down the cake. My voice is a little weak as I just recounted my fond memory of last night...again. She smirks at me. It doesn't matter if she can read minds or not. She always knows what's on my mind. She dominates it, remember?

"I hope it was satisfactory, dork," she says smiling at Fanokie. It takes me a second to realize she's talking about the cake. "Why so blue, Freddo?"

Ah. I see the pun about my skin discoloration has not yet grown old...for her at least. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because a certain annoying brute decided to pull an interesting prank on me."

She smirks again. "Yes, interesting..._Genius _even." She takes another large bight of the chocolate cake.

"I disagree," I mumble. She hears me. I can feel her peppy mood change. I crane my neck around to see her still sitting Indian style on my back, giving me a reproachful look almost worthy of my mother. Oh yeah..._my mother_. How am I going to sneak Sam out of here before I have to leave for my game? I look up at the door with concern. Sam reads her second-little-dominated-mind (which lives in my head), and says, "You act like you've never seen me sneak before."

Though I don't mind the contact, I sit up and she slides down my back to the floor. "What was that for?"

"It's already nine fifty two! The game's at ten thirty!" I give Sam an accusing look. "Why didn't you wake me up?

She smirks. "You just looked so _cute_...drooling and mumbling in your sleep."

"Mumbling?"

For some reason, the smile fades from her face. "Yeah...mostly about me." She looks over at me to see what my reaction to this might be.

"You lost," I say, motioning to the still-staring Fanokie.

"What?" She realizes she's looking at me, and not the dead criminal. "Oh, damn..." She stands up and reaches into her pockets, extracting a few loose coins. "Here, the twenty dollars I took from you. Or, what's left of it, I guess." She drops the money into my palm-up extended hand. I count out the change. Eighty three cents. Hey, I'm surprised it's even this much. She pats the side of my unamused face. "Don't spend it all in one place." Then, she thinks it might be funny to give me a random wedgie and push me down onto the ground. Urgh...she 'dominates my mind'...and I can't stand her. I really can't stand her. So, I decide to tell her this in all seriousness.

"I can't stand you."

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"I can't stand you," he says. His words sink in slowly. I feel my smirking face drop. The words sting, but they shouldn't. They really_ really_ shouldn't. He's said this to me before, these exact words. They didn't do anything to me then. Why should they now? They aren't! No feeling going on, whatsoever, inside of me at this moment. Nothing. I feel nothing...no, I feel something. I really do feel something. Something strong. It's pain. Real, physical pain, somewhere deep inside. And I mean _deep_. My heart is kind of hard to reach at times.

Stupid words. Stupid Freddo. Stupid Freddo with his stupid words. His words that randomly hurt. His words that suddenly hurt. His words that _finally _hurt.

I don't say anything in return. My snappy-comeback-machine seems to be out of service at this moment. I try though. I try with every piece of hate for Fredweird left in my body, to verbalize my anger. It's not easy. When the best I can come up with is _Oh yeah, well I can't _sit _you!_, I turn and run out of the room, like a pansy...

Is it just me, or am I reminding you of Fredqueer this morning?

Fredqueer...The name pops up in my mind a lot these days. Well, not the name Fredqueer, persay. Variations of it for the most part. Whatever form of Fredison I have in my mind, I am still disgusted with myself for it being there. Maybe this sudden, uh, not-so-hate feeling I have with Fredbag is why his words finally hurt. Meh...I hate feelings, especially my own.

I'm not liking myself at this moment. And I'm _not _caring what he thinks. I don't care, and I'll never care about anything he does or doesn't do. I'm fine.

_I'm fine._ But...he didn't even remember my birthday.

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I sigh as I watch Sam storm out of the room. My sigh is surprised, but triumphant. And relieved, my sigh is relieved. Yeah...no...no, it's really not. I'm lying to you. It's concerned. It's disappointed. It's pure sorrow. Urgh...how did she do these things to me? When did it all change? When did this all start? When did our status quo die? I sigh, this time knowing what it means. Enough of these thoughts and concerns for Sam. Sam will be alright. She always is. _But did you see the look on her face when she left? _It was pain...real, physical pain.

I run my fingers through my messy morning hair. Our biggest game of the year is today. I need to begin the process of getting mentally psyched. I take a few deep breaths. I think about all my preparation for this game; all the work, all the late practices, all the pain. That's it, I'll think of pain. This will get me psyched. But, this doesn't work so well. Sam was dominating my thoughts again with an image of her hurt expression. Ah! Sam..._Sam_...Sa-Okay! Stop saying her name. Get a grip man! Game time...game time...game time....Sam time...game-What?...Sam...urgh...

Wait, Sam...Sam? Hmm...I think...maybe...

I look at my calender. It's April 17. Oops. Sam's birthday. No wonder she was mad at me. I completely forgot.

The box on my calender that marks this dreadful day is circled in red. The red is a warning, of course, as this is the worst day of the year. Well, my worst day. Every year. _Every single year_, it has always been a horrible day. Sam is extra ornery and mean, because she can get away with it. I can guarantee you that we'll hear 'Because it's my birthday' at least eighty four times today. Trust me, it's gonna happen.

So, a little later, I'm pulling into my school's parking lot outside the field house. I'm dressed out in my number seventeen jersey (which is weird, and cool...but still weird) and I'm wearing those blue sweats that Sam finally gave back. I walk into the locker room and nod to a few guys as I make my way to the back. There's someone leaning against my locker. It's Cooper.

"Hey, Fred. Ready to kick some Pirate ass?"

I look down and dig, pointlessly, through my bag, so he won't see the angry vein pulsing in my forehead. We were playing the Eastbrook Pirates. Sam found this especially amusing. And, naturally, Sam is rooting for Eastbrook against our own Westlake Commodores because she claimed to feel a certain connection with their mascot. _Sam..._

"Yeah. Should be an interesting game."

Cooper slips his jersey over his head. "I heard number eight on Eastbrooke has it out for you, so be ready."

"For me?" Why am I still talking to him? I'm not a big fan of his right now. Not after the party.

"Yeah, I mean, as much as I hate admitting this, you're pretty good, Benson." He gives me a playful punch on the arm. Looks like he doesn't remember last night's events too clearly.

"Oh, yeah, thanks man." I sit on the cold concrete bench and lace up my shoes, not paying attention to Coop anymore. But either he isn't receiving my hints, or he is completely ignoring them.

"Hey, uh, I wanted to ask you about something." He watches me, hoping I might say 'what' or nod or something. But I remain silent as I look down at my shoes. He exhales before he continues, "Well, I was kind of hoping you could help me out with Sam. She's been ignoring my calls all day, and I don't know what to do."

I finally look up at him. "So?"

"Uh, well, you and Sam have been friends for awhile, right?"

"I guess, yeah."

"So, you know her pretty well then?"

Yes. _Well_ is an understatement. But I don't say this. I just shrug.

"Okay, well, here's the thing-,"

Coach Jeffreys walks in just then. "Alright boys! Gather 'round," his menacing voice sounds around the room, making us drop what we are doing and take a knee around him. So we get his frightening 'you'd better win, don't screw up, this is the championship' speech. Then he looks straight at me, and tells me to lead us to victory. Wow. I'm flattered. I guess I have gotten a little better. Okay, _a lot_ better. But I say this with all the humility in the world. In fact, I only have one person to thank for my skill. Whenever I get angry, I like to practice. And let's see..._who makes me angry_? Oh yeah! Sam. Then Coach asks me why my skin is blue. I can thank Sam for that one too_._

So we're doing our warm ups on the court. I scan the crowd, and see Carly and Spencer waving at me. I smile and nod. Then I see my mom. She's looking especially worried, as a ball just came within three feet of my head. I keep watching the crowd as we shoot around. Okay, maybe this sounds like I'm looking for someone, but I'm really not. I don't care if she's here. And I'm not thinking about her, I'm thinking about the game. The championship game. And, according to Coach, the only important thing in my life at the moment. So, I am definitely not thinking about the birthday girl. Not even about what I'm going to get her for her birthday, or about how angry she is with me, or about her smirk. Heh. That smirk.

"Benson!" Coach's loud and assertive voice brings my wondering mind back to the present. "What in the hell is on your pants?"

"What?" Some of my teammates have noticed our exchange and were eying my pants now.

"Whoa!" I jump a little as I feel Coop's hands a bit too close to my rear. He's inspecting the back of my pants.

Another guy chimes in, "Look what it says!" By this point all of my teammates are laughing. Not with me, at me. Some people in the crowd seemed to have noticed too. Carly is trying to hide her laughter, while Spencer is rolling around in a fit of giggles. Almost every eye is on me now, either laughing at me because of some unknown reason, or transfixed by my skin discoloration, which I have Sam to thank for. Luckily our school colors are white and blue.

"What?" I slip my sweat pants off (don't worry, I've got shorts on too) and examine them. Crudely sewn into the butt of my blue pants are big yellow letters that read 'Property of Sam Puckett'. Looks like she didn't return them. I guess she just needed a storage place for what was apparently _her property_ and my dresser seemed to fit her standards.

Or maybe..._maybe_, the words' implication was not meant for the pants. _Hmm_...Either way, Cooper is now eying me suspiciously. I just smile and wink at him. Ooh, he didn't like that. Good.

So, fifteen minutes later, we are lined up in tip-off formation. Johnny, our 6.9 guy, gets the tip. The ball comes my way. I wrestle it out of a Pirate's hands and take off down the court. I see Rocko open up in the lane, and feed him a clean bounce pass. He grabs the ball and puts it up quickly, scoring 2. The gymnasium fills with cheers as we jog to the other side of the court. Number eight on Eastbrook dribbles the ball down. He's the one who's 'got it out for me'. I make a mental note to call him 'Ginger', as he has some flaming red hair. Wow, along with her eating habits, her incessant nicknaming is wearing off on me.

So, Ginger gives the ball to one of his posts at the baseline. Then he starts down the lane. Ah, a 'give and go'. Predictable. I stay with him, and I know the pass is coming from the post real soon now. I'm ready to lash out and deny it when something catches my eye. I glance to my right. It's Sam. She makes her dramatic entrance into the gym, breaking free and running from the man collecting tickets. She's decked out in her pirate outfit. The whole thing. I'm talking peg leg, skull and cross bones chain, and glue-on beard. And we are playing the Eastbrook Pirates. Wow, her lack for school spirit amazes me. She's got an aggressive look on her face, and a sign around her neck that says, 'it's my birthday, bitch!'. Ah. Of course.

"Benson, come on! Get your head in the game!" I look away from Sam, and see that Ginger has broken past me and scored a lay up. 2-2.

I shake my head trying to rid it of any thoughts of pirates who aren't on the court. Coop throws the ball in to me, and I slowly take it down the court. I pass the ball to Greg, one of our wings, and he takes the open shot. But it bounces off the rim and I jump up for the rebound. I bring the ball down hard, and I hear Ginger yell, "I got Blue!" I think he must be calling a play, until he comes from behind and begins guarding me.

I fake to the left, then take the ball up strong and lay it against the backboard for 2 more points. I raise my blue fist to the cheering crowd as I run down the court. Spencer is 'whooping' loudly and Carly is waving a sign that reads, 'Go Commies!'. And Sam is sitting in front of them in the bottom row. She's close enough for me to see her bored expression. I wait back a little, then steal a ball passed to Ginger. I take off down the court on a fast break. Ginger is right behind me. I jump to put the ball in the rim, but he catches my arm before I can do so. The ref blows his shrill whistle, announcing the foul. I saunter to the free throw line. I take a deep breath as I set my shoulders square to the basket. I take another deep breath then dribble the ball a few times, watching my spot on the orange rim. I cock my shooting arm, ready to follow through. And I'm about to do so, when I hear Sam's loud voice, "Don't choke Fredqueer!" I look over my shoulder to glare at her, but I can't. She's smiling innocently at me. So, like a nub, I smile back. Then I turn back to the hoop and shoot the ball. _Swish_. There's one. The ref tosses the ball back to me, and I put my next foul shot up. Another point. I glance at Sam. She looks angry, as her school just took the lead, thanks to me.

Skip to the last few minutes in the third quarter. We are behind, forty eight to fifty two. Just four points didn't seem that bad, but Coach Jeffreys was carrying on like it was the end of the world. "Benson! _Benson_!" I let Ginger get around me again, swishing a three-pointer. Forty eight to fifty five. I was not Coach's favorite person right now. "Stop staring at that girl in the pirate suit! Play the game!" Wow, thanks for yelling that for the entire gym to hear. Except Sam. She was sound asleep on the floor out of bounds by the half court line. I couldn't help myself from looking. I love watching her sleep. She's looks less angry and more approachable. And she looks so cute with her glue-on beard peeling off, as people are stepping over her oblivious body to get by. The ball is suddenly thrown to me. I'm not ready, and I let the ball slip out of my hands and out of bounds.

"BENSON!" Coach's face is turning red, and his bearded cheeks are quavering. I quickly make up for my mistake by stealing the ball away from Ginger and sinking a clean three pointer. Fifty one-fifty five now.

So Ginger is bringing the ball down the court, and Coach still isn't looking too thrilled with me. I guard Ginger close enough that he is forced to throw the ball away. Cooper picks it up and heads down court. But then he stumbles and loses his dribble. The ball is headed out of bounds at the half court line, so I dive for it. Then things happen rather quickly. I lay out in mid air and manage to get my hands on the ball and whip it back into play. Now comes the crashing into the bleachers part. I look in front of me, and it doesn't look like it's going to be bleachers this time. I crash violently into Sam's sleeping form, and then everything is black.

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Later that same day, we're hanging out at Carly's. I had been taken out of the game after I lost conscientiousness during my little head-on crash into Sam. When I came to, the first thing I saw was her angry bearded face. Thankfully, she had decided the beard was itchy and took it off. Now she doesn't look as scary when she glared at me, like she has been all day. She has a puffy black eye from where my skull collided with hers. I am watching her ice it now has we both lay sprawled out on the Shay's couch, her head on one end, mine on the other. Her mismatched socked feet are extremely close to my face.

"Sam, move your feet."

"Shut up Benson! It's my birthday!" Told you she'd say that.

"Simmer down, children." Carly brings us each a new ice-pack for our faces. Then there is a knock on the door. It's probably one of our other friends. People from our school have been filtering in and out to see if we are okay (the whole school saw our little collision at the game), or wish Sam happy birthday, or congratulate me on a good game. Which we lost, by the way. Almost the entire team had gone to Rocko's party last night, and they weren't doing so well when game time came around. The vision of Coop randomly tripping and fumbling the ball comes to mind. I swear, sometimes I think that I am the only one of my peers with any sense at all. But, then again, I kind of blew it for us too. A certain blonde pirate was very distracting to me throughout the game.

Carly answers the door, and lets Cooper in.

"Hey guys," he addresses all of us, though he's only looking at Sam. He's got that stupid handsome grin on his face. And in his hands, he's holding a bouquet of roses. And no, they're not for me. After the game, he asked me what Sam might want for her birthday. I told him she loved roses, the light pink kind, which is a complete lie. She hates flowers, and she hates the idea of receiving flowers. And maybe this isn't something a friend would do to another, but I couldn't resist. And I knew exactly what to get her. I picked it up from a pawn shop after the game. She will love it, especially after getting Coop's lame flowers. "How are you, Sam?"

"I'm in need of some cake." She looks accusingly over to Spencer.

"I'm sorry! I swear I made you a beautiful chocolate masterpiece this morning, but I lost it," Spencer says desperatly. This is not the first time he's had to explain the absence of the cake to Sam. In fact, he's had to apologize to her eleven times since we've been home.

"How do you lose a cake?" Sam asks after she wipes away her guilty smile. Oh, I know what happened now. Remember that cake that she randomly had in my room this morning? I guess Spencer didn't _lose _the cake after all. She must've snoock into the Shay's house and taken it. I bet she sniffed it out all the way from my room. I'm actually impressed.

"Er, I got you these." Cooper hands her the bouquet.

"Ah. Thanks." Sam takes them awkwardly. "Now go stuff it, you pig!" Nice job Sam_. _

"What? Sammy-,"

"Don't you _Sammy _me!"

"Well, I...um." For once, Coop has nothing to say. Carly and I both stifle our smiles. Spencer leans against the counter, looking amused.

"You...you? You are..._a jerk_?" Sam isn't showing any mercy today. Good.

"Look Sam! I'm sorry, I really am-," a knock on the door interrupts his apology. Carly answers the door again. It's Natalie.

"Hi Carly!" The beautiful blonde girl floats into the room, looking right at me. "Hey Freddie. Good game," she offers sadly. I'm glad someone cares that we lost, because I sure don't. There are more important things on my mind at this time. Then Natalie laughs. "You're still blue!" When she asked me about this earlier, I just told her that there was something wrong with my plumbing and the water turned me blue, which was kind of true.

"Hey Nast-er...Natalie." She doesn't seem to notice my slip up. Sam does, and she's smirking happily at me. I shake my head at her, then stand to hug Natalie. After that horrible date, I thought for sure Natalie would hate my guts. But she seems to only like me more since then. She said I was really cute when I got flustered. So, I guess you can say we've been 'talking' these past few weeks. Just texting and hanging out at school, nothing huge. But it is enough to piss Sam off. Though Carly tries desperately to get her to admit it, she will never say she's jealous. She'll just simply tell me that I act like a complete queer-ass-nub around Natalie, and if I keep hanging out with Natalie, she will disown me. This makes sense to me now, as I have recently been claimed her property.

When we break apart, I push Sam over so Natalie can sit by me. So what does Sam do? She stands up and flings her arms around Cooper, kissing him straight on the mouth. Wow. Wasn't she just yelling at him a second ago? Cooper doesn't mind the sudden change in the atmosphere though. I am about ready to say something or step in or _something_, when luckily Spencer speaks up. "Okay, none of that in my house. Come on...you can do it...just let go." They finally break apart. And the first thing Sam does is glare right at me. Cooper tries to take her hand, and she slaps his away, looking at him in dusgust for his ignorance. I think he's getting the picture that he's being used at this point. So, making out with Natalie right now and glaring back at Sam would probably give Natalie the same whim about my intentions with her. Not that I'm using her...well...er, maybe I am. The only time I ever bring her around is when I know Sam will be there too. Hmm...yeah. Not healthy for our relationship, I'm sure.

"Alright. Awkward," Carly declares, turning toward our guests. "Thanks for coming by guys, but we need to get going on iCarly, so we kind of need you two to leave." Thank God.

So we are at the end of our show now. Staying true to her Samness, Sam had come up late then told the camera not to worry because she could do whatever she wanted. It was her birthday after all. That didn't stop me from yelling at her while we were live though. I guess you could say that there was a bit of tension between us throughout the show. Just one last segment of 'Random Debates' and we were done. This one is between Sam and I. As angry as we are with each other, things could get interesting.

So I'm sitting on the the blue beanbag (Sam made me, suggesting that maybe I'll blend in, and it'll be like I'm not here). She is on the red one, back in her pirate suit. I'm talking eye patch, beard, the whole sha-bang. We glare at each other, building the tension, before the debate starts.

"Hello," I say.

"You sound like such a creeper."

"Shut up Sam! No direct attacks!" I yell. Carly is watching us from off screen, dreaded spray bottle in hand.

Sam ignores me and looks at the camera. "I will be debating on behalf of scissors, and the dork has the Easter Bunny."

"The Easter Bunny," I start, "is one of the most celebrated imaginary figures in the world."

"Scissors," Sam starts, "are used for cutting various thin materials, such as paper, cardboard, metal foil, thin plastic, cloth, rope, wire, and queers. Like Freddie."

"The Easter Bunny brings joy and peace to the world, because there are people like scissors, who feel the need to suck it all out!" Did I say _people_? I meant _things_.

"Well the Easter Bunny is a big, fat, blue nub. And scissors wants to take the Easter Bunny and chop him up into little pieces, then throw him in a blender, and feed him to Spencer's goldfish!" She keeps a straight face, still watching the camera with poise the whole time she's saying this.

"The Easter Bunny doesn't care if you think he's a nub. The Easter Bunny thinks that scissors is pathetic for going back to its loser boyfriend!" Carly looks a little concerned at this point as she grips the bottle a bit tighter.

"Scissors did not go back to her loser boyfriend!"

"Then why was scissors just eating his face?" I ask, standing up.

Sam stands up to, and puts her bearded face up to mine, "Because scissors needed something to do other then watch the Easter Bunny be dorkish with Nastalie!"

"Scissors is a freaking psychopath!"

"The Easter Bunny is an asshole!"

Carly finally steps in then, feeling that the debate is getting a little too personal. "Okay, cool it guys! Sam, you can't use swear words while we're live-,"

"And the Easter Bunny can burn in the fiery abyss of hell for all scissors cares!" Sam adds.

That's enough for Carly. She sprays Sam's heated face with the bottle. Sam gives her a piercing glare before ripping the bottle from her hands and chucking it against the wall. It explodes in a mess of plastic and water. Carly shoots Sam an angry look, then turns to the camera. "Well, looks like we will never know the answer to this debate, so...er...tune in next time." She clicks the off air button on my laptop. Sam and I are still glaring at each other. "Wow," Carly says. "I'm going to need a long, _long _shower after that." Sam hands her a chair, then Carly heads for the door. "Don't kill each other, please."

Sam and I are waiting for Carly downstairs on the couch. The tension from the Random Debate has only grown with our floor level descent. Sam is sitting with her arms crossed. She is staring at me with a glare that's even more hateful than usual. Finally she speaks, "Make me a sammich!"

"NO! Make your own damn sandwich!"

"It's my birthday! You have to do whatever I tell you!"

"Bull shit. You are so full of yourself!" I cross my arms as well.

"Oh, stop being such a queer. And I'm sure Mrs. B would not approve of you're fowl language, young man." Then she smirks. "Did you like the little touches I added to your sweat pants?"

"No." _Kind of_. "And why does Unice keep texting me about the notes I send her in class?"

"Heh...well, I might have told her of your undying love for her, maybe...once or twice." She shrugs. "Or a few times. Better than Nastalie!" she yells defensively.

"Sam you...you...AHH!"

She smirks. "Don't hurt yourself, Fredward."

Okay, so her smirk is maybe a little cute. But I make sure to glare angrily at her before she reads my mind again. "Just because your mom is dating some loser, you have to make everyone else miserable all the time!" Oh no. Right as the words leave my mouth, I wish I could take them back. I know this is a touchy subject with Sam. I have no right bringing her family into this. That isn't fair for her.

But Sam is not going to let what I say bother her. Not like she had earlier today, when she had run out of my room. It's different now. She's prepared and, she isn't going to back down this time. Sam stands up on the couch so she is above when she yells, "Shut up, Fredqueer! Don't...don't act like you know me!" But I do know her, and her hesitation lets me know that she is aware of this too. "You're always pissy because your mom still breast feeds you!" she yells down at me.

I stand up on the couch too, so that we're back to our normal me looking down, and her glaring up. "That's not true! You are insane!"

She doesn't like being balled insane. "Oh yeah, then why are you being so defensive?" She takes the front of my shirt in her hands and pulls me menacingly close to her. She's staring me down with this livid look, and all I can think about is how cute the little wrinkles in her nose are when she gets angry. _Come on, Freddie. Don't lose focus now, man. _She continues, "You are such a-,"

I do lose focus. I lose so much focus, that I think I'll kiss her. Right here. Right now. Standing on the couch. I guess the heavy tension in the room is just too heavy, and we have been staring nose-to-nose at each other for just too long, because she is actually kissing me back. She's hesitant at first, her hands still gripping the front of my shirt but with a weaker hold now. And she is completely still. It's almost like Sam Puckett is scared. One of my arms wraps around her waste. The other travels up to her face. I run my thumb along her cheeks, and she finally surrenders. She presses herself into me, kissing me back in a very fierce, Sam-like way. But when she realizes what she's doing, she quickly pushes me away so she can finish what she was saying, "dork." Then her hands that are already bunching up the front of my shirt pull me closer. She reaches around the back of my neck as I kiss her excitedly. _Finally_ is one of the many things going through my head right now. And I'm guessing it's going through her head too, because of her enthusiasm. As much as I don't want to, I pull away this time.

"Could...you...maybe...take off the beard?"

She's out of breath too. "No," she says, mostly out of habit. But she does take it off, as well as her eye patch, then she grabs the hair on the back of my head and pulls me down into her. She uses such force that we fall back onto the couch. I prop myself up with my elbows on either side of her so I'm not crushing her beneath me. But she is pulling me down with so hard that my efforts really don't matter. I can feel her cold toes curling and uncurling against my shins. I'm grinning like an idiot as my blue lips travel around her jawline. She takes her mouth's free-time to ask me, "What about Nastalie?"

"Who's Nastalie?"

She seems to like my answer. She wraps her arms around the back of my head and kisses me once hard on the lips before breathing, "Good answer, queer. There's only room for one blonde in your life." Then she forcefully pulls my blue face back to hers.

I whisper into her lips, "Especially when she's as aggressive as you."

"Yeah, now stop talking." I can feel the triumphant smirk on her lips as I kiss her again. Then my hands find the sides of her face. I'm drawing little circles with my thumbs on her ears as I kiss her forehead. She, again, pulls me back to her lips.

"Uh, should...I be concerned..er..." It's Spencer's voice. He must have just come out of his room.

Sam and I quickly untangle ourselves, and stand back up on the couch. I try not to smile like the mindless idiot I'm feeling like. Aside from her pink face and the fact that's she's standing on the couch, Sam is acting pretty natural. So natural, in fact, that she slaps my face and says accusingly, "Freddie! How dare you touch me!" Spencer's shocked face doesn't look convinced. So, Sam decides it might help if me pushes me over the back of the couch. My head makes a loud thud as it collides with the floor. I let out a weak groan and Sam yells, "Shut up, Dork."

"I-I just came out here when I heard you guys stop yelling. I was worried." He almost smiles. "Sorry for interrupting, but could you relocate yourselves far, far away from my couch?"

"No need to relocate. Freddie was just being a creeper, but it's okay now," I hear Sam say reassuringly. Then she looks down at me. I am just laying here, trying with every nerve in my blushing face to look angry. But it is hard not to smile when I see that Sam is chewing the bottom corner of her lower lip, looking everywhere but at me. I don't move. I just lay here, looking up at Sam. I cross my arms, the angriest look I can muster at the moment resting on my set face. Finally, Sam can't take it anymore. She makes a few nonchalant clicking noises with her tongue before her eyes finally find mine. When she sees my expression, she offers me a wide smile, which disappears as quickly as it comes. Then she does the same. She slams the Shay's door behind her, leaving me and Spencer alone.

Spencer helps me up. "So...uh," he's struggling right now. "I won't ask."

"Good idea," I say. "Because I wouldn't be able to explain it."

* * *

**I tried not to say "Get your head in the game" at all during the basketball scene as High School Musical turned that one into the biggest cliche of all time.  
**

**And sorry for putting the image of blue Freddie and pirate suit Sam making out standing on the Shay's couch in your mind (or you're welcome...whatever floats you boat)...**

**Review! Oh, and if you are wondering what Freddie got Sam for her b-day, it's in the next chapter....you guys will like it...it'll make you laugh. Hopefully. Maybe not. Meh. Made me laugh when the idea popped into my brain. But then again, I have been known to be amused by shiny objects. Thanks! **


	11. proclamations are so lame

**Okay, I feel like a jerk. I have been so consumed by my story that I have not read, like, anything from anyone else. Any free time I do have, I'm using it to write. So I will seriously do some reading when this is over.  
**

Sorry about any errors. I have a weird pattern: write, post, then edit...so sorry.

** Last chapter...we're going all out, kiddos. Ew. I call everyone 'kiddo' these days. My grandpa is back in town, and it seems his terminology is wearing off on me. Apologies for the level of creeperness that was reached in this a/n. **_Kiddos._ ***shivers*.  
**

**Final chapter, enjoy. I hope you find it _delicious_. (I looked up 'positive adjectives' and _delicious _came up first...so there you go...Heh. Brad says 'Hi everyone' (he's SO annoying)...and you may _not _call us Brangelina. Even if he tells you to, don't. And he recently learned my password and I haven't decided what to change it to yet, so I am not to be held accountable for some of the messages and review replies sent to you guys after this chapter. I would like to apologize in advance... **

* * *

"So?" Spencer had told Carly about walking in on us yesterday. And, Carly had to be very annoying by 'not being at all surprised'.

"So..."

"Oh come on Freddie! Details! You know Sam won't give me any." Carly looks up thoughtfully. "Though she did mention her increased fear of catching nerd disease."

"Oh. Of course she did." And, like the idiot I've turned into overnight, I'm smiling. _Sam mentioned our kiss...sort of...yay! _Yeah, that is how my thought process is going today. But, strangely enough, I'm okay with it. I'm also okay with the fact that Sam stole and devoured my entire lunch in the cafeteria today, and the fact that she got me kicked out of Health class because she kept making 'moose noises' (as she called them) and then would tell me to shut up. And she sent a forward around to everyone in the school that read, **Freddie Benson equals CHOKE!**. But that's fine too. This means that she somewhat remembers yesterday's game, and it means she had been watching me. _Wow, I am sounding like a queer-ass-nub. Heh. 'Sam names' are so catchy._

I really have to sort my strange thoughts out right now. I need a reality check. I need it bad. And it comes...in the form of Sam. She's bouncing toward us standing at my locker. I can see the excitement just oozing out of her. There's no way, even after yesterday, that she is this excited to see me. Hmm...I bet the next, say, three minutes are going to be very interesting. Just as Sam bounds over to us, and happily takes her place next to me by my locker, Natalie walks over.

"He's right here, Natalie." She tugs on my sleeve, beaming wildly. "Now you can ask him whatever it is you were going to ask him." _Red flag_. Oh yes, things are getting interesting already.

"Hey Freddie," Natalie says.

I take a deep breath. "Hey Natalie."

"Well, uh, this is weird, but-," she looks around at our little audience. Carly takes the hint and walks off down the hallway, mouthing 'good luck' to me. Sam doesn't move. She just leans against my locker, her signature smirk stamped across her smug face. "But, I was wondering if, maybe, we could go out this weekend. You know, again." She gives me her pretty smile. "Wow, this is weird. I _never_ ask guys out. They always ask me."

I gulp._ Urgh...she likes me. She really likes me._ I look at Sam, who is still smirking at me and this whole situation. _And Sam...Sam really, really hates me. _

"Oh, uh, well...that does sound like fun." I look at Sam again. She cocks her eyebrow and shrugs. She's not going to help me out, is she? "But-,"

"But?" Natalie is completely shocked. Out of all the guys in the school, she chooses me. And I am also the only guy in the school who would ever turn her down.

"Umm...this weekend is not gonna work for me." There, that sounds convincing enough.

"Well, then next weekend?" Natalie asks hopefully.

Sam slowly shakes her head at me. "Er...no, not next weekend...um," I look back at Sam for help that I probably won't receive. "I'm not going to be open until-,"

"Never," Sam finally says. I look at her and try hard not to smile, for Natalie's sake, and because if Sam can keep a straight face, so can I. _Yeah right_. I flash my new idiotic ear to ear grin at Sam, who returns a small smirk. Natalie catches on.

"You...Sam?"

"Uh," I shift my weight uneasily. "Yeah, sort of." I look at Sam for approval.

She agrees, "Sort of." That 'sort of' is going to change soon if I can help it.

"Oh," Natalie says, looking completely defeated. "But aren't you guys, like, always trying to kill each other or something?"

Sam shrugs, "Keeps things lively." I stifle a laugh.

After an awkward 'goodbye' Natalie takes off down the hallway. Sam and I head the other direction toward Mr. Ordway's room. She beams up at me. "Well played, Mr. Benson."

I guess I passed her little test, or won her little game, or whatever you want to call it. "All for you, Ms. Puckett."

She smiles to herself. It's the cutest smile ever, and one that I don't see often. Then she notices that I've noticed (curse you ogling eyes) and her guard goes back up. She decides it might be beneficial at this point to put me in a sleeper hold and drag me along like this to History, informing me that this is, "All in good fun, Mr. Benson."

We enter Mr. Ordway's classroom in 'sleeper hold position'. "Okay...Sam. Sam! My neck, Sam!" She finally lets go. I rub my sore neck.

"Pansy."

"I know, I know." I follow her to our normal seats in the back left corner. We sit down, and she instantly has this mischievous expression on her face. "What is it this time?"

"Oh, you'll see."

"Are you going to get expelled today?"

"Um, no...maybe." She shrugs. "Just wait, it is _so_ worth it." I highly doubt that. "Oh, I almost forgot." She pulls the infamous silver handcuffs from her back pocket. She must have broken into my room again recently. "Give me your hand."

"Ha! No way. We are _not_ doing that again."

"Oh come on! This is a mandatory part of my master scheme!" She grabs my arm, twisting it violently as I try to pull away. "Does the idea of being handcuffed to me really sound that bad?"

I sigh in frustration as I allow her to cuff my wrist to hers. "So, why is this necessary?"

"You'll see. Patience Dorkface." The bell rings and Mr. Ordway walks into the room. Sam laughs out loud as he turns his back to the class to write something on the board. She will always get the biggest kick out of his saggy butt. He turns around and stares her down. But she is still laughing and wiping tears from her eyes.

"Something funny, Miss Puckett?"

"Yes, actually. I forgot my book."

I look over at her. "And that's funny?" I whisper.

"Shh...it will be."

Mr. Ordway crosses the room to the closet in the back saying, "Why am I not surprised?" He opens the door to the closet to get her a spare book, and when he looks inside he yelps and staggers backward, tripping over a desk in the process. Sam flies out of her chair, dragging me along by the cuffs. She is laughing so hard she has to hold my shoulder to steady herself. I cringe as she claws me with her nails. She probably knows she's doing it too, and I don't mind. Weird day, I'm telling you. I help Mr. Ordway to his feet, as Sam points frantically into the open closet. I look inside. Fanokie is grinning at me. Sam has decided to add a few touches to the dead criminal by dressing him in her beloved pirate suit. She and Mr. Ordway _did _have a history with pirates. The glue-on beard complements Fanokie's grim face quite nicely.

"Nice to see you again," I greet him. Sam is laughing so hard that she falls and bumps into the chair Fanokie is sitting in. His body is slightly shaken. His head falls to his chest, giving me a nod in return to my salutations. I pick the still laughing Sam up and set her on her feet. She leans her head into my arm as she tries to settle down. I pat her soothingly. "Deep breaths Sammy. It's not _that_ funny."

The rest of the class is laughing too. Mr. Ordway looks less than amused. In fact, he looks utterly alarming as he stares Sam down. He walks swiftly and angrily to his desk, where he fills out a pink slip. He huffs as he hands it to her. "Go to the office. They can decide what to do with you." He glares down at her. "I'm thinking suspension."

Sam lets out a, "Whoop, whoop! Nothing like getting out of school." I look at my feet so the livid Mr. Ordway won't see me smiling.

"Get your...your _pirate _and go!" She picks up Fanokie and we head for the door. "And just where do you think you're going, Mr. Benson?"

"Uh..." Sam saves me from an awkward explanation by shaking our handcuffed hands.

"Again?" It's Cooper who asks this. He's looking a little angry, maybe a little jealous. But I know he's going to be alright. I saw him all over Jessica Wright in third period. The kid moves on fast.

Sam glares at him. "Yes." Then she lets out a pained gasp as Fanokie's head falls off his body. Luckily, I reach out in time and catch it before it shatters on the ground. Stop looking so surprised! I'm more coordinated now, remember? I hand the bearded skull back to Sam. She takes it and stares at it sadly. "Fanokie?" she asks quietly. How could Coop move on from Sam. She's just so different from anything else I've ever seen. And the way she decides things in her mind, like Fanokie is still alive, is actually quite endearing. Scary, but endearing.

"He's alright," I say as we start down the hall. "Just consider him in a profound state of unconsciousness."

She looks up at me. "Can we fix him?"

"Easy," I smile. Then we pass by the office. I look down at the pink slip in my hand. "Um, Sam? Where exactly are we going?"

"The Getaway."

"Um, why?"

"There's a MMA fight on at two that I can't miss." So that's where this whole 'Fanokie scheme' came from. She wanted to get out of class to go home to watch a fight. And she handcuffed herself to me so she'd have a ride. Wow, she thought of everything. Almost everything.

"Sam, I have to go to that basketball team banquet after school." She looks up at me.

"You are seriously marsh'n my mallow, kid!"

"I'm sorry. I can still drop you off though." She shrugs. Skipping school and watching Sam get all intense while she watches the fight sounds quite appealing to me at the moment. But I really have to go to this stupid banquet. Mom already bought me some new dress pants to wear. There was no getting out of it now. "Sorry," I say again.

"It's okay. There's no room for your high amount of estragine during a fight."

Wow. Okay. I'm not even going to say anything to that one, because I'm perfectly content right now. All things are as they should be. We are sneaking out of school accompanied by Fanokie, Sam is now wearing his eye patch, and we are handcuffed (though there's really no need as our hands are intertwined). I lead Sam to The Getaway. I pop open the trunk. "Don't worry, there's a pillow back here for him."

"Fanokie is in a coma and you want him to ride in the trunk!"

"It took _forever_ for me to clean his stench out of my seat last time!"

Sam shakes her head at me. "Don't listen to the mean little girly boy, Fanny." _Fanny_. It was just a matter of time before Sam was going to nickname him too. She glares at me as she buckles his headless body into the back seat. Then she pulls a clip out of her hair and picks the cuffs. We take our places inside of the car. Sam sets Fanokie's bearded skull in the cup holder.

"Seriously Sam?"

"He told me he feels left out around us!"

"Oh, he told you that, did he?"

"Yes. Yes he did." I shake my head and smile in spite of myself. Sam tends to make me do a lot of things in spite of myself. I watch her in amazement as she looks in the mirror, trying to decide which eye wears the eye patch better. Why do I find this amazing? Well, I think I can tell you this time.

"Uh, umm...Sam?"

"What, Dork?" I'm glad to see things have not changed between us.

"Uh...umm...Well, you see...you see...,"

"Are you going to tell me something, or you just gonna stutter at me?"

I'm not ready quite yet. But she is expecting me to say something. "I have something for you." I get out and open the trunk again and pull out her gift which I had hidden under Fanokie's would-be pillow. I climb back into the driver's seat. "Here."

She takes the bo staff and examines it in aw. "You-you...a Bo staff?"

"Yeah, I got it at that pawn shop yesterday. Sorry, I know it's kinda late, but happy birthday." Her shocked expression slowly twists into a smile as she runs her fingers along the tapered white oak stick.

"Wow," she says. "Thanks, Freddork."

"Yeah, and here. I guess these are yours anyway." I hand her the blue 'Property of Sam Puckett' sweats. She takes them smiling.

"That was one of my better pranks."

I look down at my pale blue skin. The color has faded quite a bit, but the light tint is still there. "You have had many good ones."

"Better believe it, Blue." Then I hand over the last, and probably her favorite, present. It's a two-layered chocolate cake that says, 'Happy Birthday Captain Sam!' She says, "Sa-weet!" as she happily takes it. She pulls a fork out of her pocket. I was right to not worry about utensils.

"Do you have two forks?"

"Ha! Like your getting any," she takes a large bite. "It's my birthday, not yours."

"Okay, okay. Close your mouth. You're getting cake all over the dashboard." I put the stick in drive and we head for Sam's house. It's now or never. "Uh, Sam?"

"Mmhmm?" She licks the chocolate off her fork.

"Umm, uh, well-,"

"Oh don't start that again!"

"Look, I wanted to talk to you. About yesterday."

"Hmm...you're gonna have to be more specific."

"You know..._yesterday_...the couch?"

"Ah. That one. Okay, shoot."

"Erm...uh, it was really nice? I guess. And sudden, too. And-,"

"Wow, you suck at this," she points out, smirking.

"You're not much of a help. All you care about is getting the next bite in your mouth."

She stops devouring the cake long enough to look at me. "Oh, I'm so sorry you're mad at me for not giving you any cake." She takes another bite. "You're the one who forgot my birthday yesterday."

"And I'm sorry about that."

"Good." She takes another messy bite. I reach over and rub chocolate off her chin then lick my thumb. She looks at me. "Weird."

I laugh. "You know what? It is."

"Wow, you're agreeing with me. Interesting."

"I can't help it! You...you have completely blown me away." That sounds dumb.

Sam thinks so too. "Wow, also interesting. You have never had a way with words, Fredward."

"I'm nervous."

She laughs at this. I love her laugh. Oh, I love her laugh. And her smile. And, just, her everything. "It doesn't have to be perfect, you know," she says.

Wow. It's scary how she knows what I'm trying to say. And she told me it doesn't have to be perfect. "You're kinda worth it."

"And you're kinda lame."

"Yeah, I feel lame." I stare out the windshield for inspiration. Nothing but cars and hobos. I look over at Sam who is petting her new bo staff. She is just _dying _to try it out. This is inspiration enough."It's just, the way you are. I don't know how to explain it. It's all the little things I guess."

She nods. "Okay. You're getting there..."

"Like how you are so aggressive, all the time. And you take things too personal. And you are pure evil. Genius, but evil." She is thoughtfully watching me rant. "And you have to be the most obnoxious person I know."

"I _do _love being obnoxious."

I laugh. "But you know what? I'm okay with it. All of it. I'm okay with the way you are. Agressive, angry, intense, annoying, whatever." I look over at her chocolate covered face. "It's fine. You're fine."

"And...?"

Oh, right. "Uh, and I was hoping you might like to be my girlfriend."

"Hmm..." She thinks about this for a second. "You know I don't really like labels. I mean _girlfriend_?"

"Then what would you suggest?"

"How about, your master, or your captain, or something cool."

I sigh. "You are so strange."

"Hey, you just told me that was okay!" She looks over at me.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm not complaining. I'll just call you my, uh, Sam."

"And you are my Dork." She smiles, but she's not satisfied. "Anything else you need to tell me...?"

"Uh, no."

"You sure?"

"Umm, I guess, I like you. I really, really like you."

She's still not satisfied. "Wow. That was anticlimactic."

"Okay, I love you!" There are no words to explain how good it feels to finally admit this to her, and to myself. "I don't know how it happened either. It was, er...an accident, I guess."

"So, you _accidentally _fell in love with me?" She smirks. "Did I get that right?"

"Yeah..." Wow. This is incredibly lame. Sam is really getting a kick out of it though. She is absolutely cracking up.

"Heh." She laughs again. She doesn't giggle, she laughs. She can be herself around me. "Well, you get points for originality, Fredweird."

I smile at her. "Thank you. And, do you have something you want to tell me?"

"Nope."

"Sam!"

"Proclamations are so lame!" I just shake my head at her. "Okay, okay fine. Uh...er." She's struggling. It's even harder for her to admit her feelings. "You-you...hmm...you're like my side kick."

"Are you serious?"

"Sure. I'm Batman and you're Robbin. Every hero needs a tight-wearing wonder boy."

"Tight-wearing wonder boy?" I ask this sounding offended, but I'm all smiles. This was Sam's way of telling me she needs me. And it's the best I'm going to get out of her. All too soon, I'm pulling into her weed infested driveway. Her mom's car isn't here. "You need me to come in?"

She smiles. "Naw, Sonny's not here. Mom actually kicked him out. I told her about the other night when you, er, saved me, I guess." I love the fact that she hates admitting this. "Anyway, she finally booted him!"

"Good for her," I smile.

"But you will need to come in sometime. She wants to meet my rescuer. She's almost as lame as you are." It is weird that I have known Sam for so long, and I've never met her mom. I guess I will have to now that we're, er, dating. I guess. It still sounds weird. But it feels right.

"You can come to my banquet after you're done watching the fight," I suggest. Having Sam there to make fun of my new dress pants might make the boring ordeal more bearable.

"Yeah, yeah...no. Nope, I won't."

"Didn't think so." She gathers Fanokie up in her arms, and I hand her the skull and the bo staff. I'm always in weird situations, doing weird things when I'm with her. I bet my life is about to get _real _interesting. "I do love you, Sam." She gives me a little half-nod. "Sam?"

"I'm sorry. I just can't take you seriously when you're blue." And with that, she skips up to her porch and disappears behind the white door. I'm smiling as I put the car into reverse. She's going to have to admit it sometime.

--------------------------------------------------------

I look sleepily at my clock. It's three in the morning. What is mom doing here? She's supposed to be staying at the hospital all night with a patient. I love these rare nights. I roll out of bed and walk to the kitchen to see what all the noise is about.

There's a short blonde girl with her back turned to me, standing at my counter. She is pouring a glass of milk. She must've picked the lock, again. "Sam?" I ask groggily.

She turns, a little startled, but recovers quickly. "Oh, hey Nerd-boy."

I rub my eyes sleepily."What are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm kind of in a dilemma. You see, Carly has all of these cookies, but no milk." She shrugs. "And it's only neighborly of you to share."

"What are you doing up at three o'clock in the morning anyway?"

"Ah, who needs sleep."

"Normal people."

She smirks. "I'm not normal then."

"No you are not." I put away the milk for her. "Did you fix Fanokie?"

"Yeah. I still had some superglue leftover. He's recovering. I think he'll make it."

"I'm so very relieved that the dead criminal is going to make it." Sam smiles. "So, why are you really here?"

"To get milk, you dork."

I cross my arms. "_Really_?"

"Yes, really! And maybe, uh, maybe...never mind."

"What? Come on, you have to tell me now!"

She looks so cute as she cocks her eyebrow. "I don't have to tell you anything!"

"Just say it, Sam."

She's chewing the corner of her bottom lip indecisively. I am never going to get tired of her facial expressions. I decide to make her decision a little easier. I take a few steps closer, and lower my smirking face to hers.

"Hey! You can't smirk, that's my thing-,"

She is probably about to call me a name of some sort, but it's too late. She can't hold in her true reason for being here any longer. She crashes into me, grabbing both sides of my face and kissing me hard on the lips. I stagger back a few steps before I regain my balance. Then I push her back against the counter and we both continue on enthusiastically. Without surfacing, she smacks my face. Oh, right. She can still feel me smirking. My smirk transforms into my new idiotic grin that Sam makes me wear so often. My hands find the back of her thighs, and I lift her up to the counter. She sighs softly as I set her down, and wraps her arms around the back of my neck, pulling me down into her. Ah. This is it. This is what is was all along. Every snide remark, every cruel prank, every single violent threat...it all comes down to this. Yeah, uh, what was I saying jsut now? Erm...sorry my thoughts on this revelation are a bit choppy. Sam is kind of distracting me at the moment. I'm very much enjoying these distractions, I might add. She is actually allowing me to trail my mouth along her cheek to her ear instead of practicing her aggression and positioning my face for me, like last time (though honestly I didn't mind it then), when I feel something cold on my leg. It's not enough to make me pull away from Sam though. But I guess she feels it too.

"You spilled my milk!" She pushes me away and jumps down from the counter, shaking her off her soaked legs. I step back hastily, and manage to slip on the spilled milk. I fall to the tile floor with a loud thud.

She smirks happily down at me. "Hmm...if we keep up this pattern, every time we kiss, I believe you are going to end up on the floor. Good." She turns to leave. "Now go to bed, before Crazy gets home."

I stand up and wipe down milk-covered front. Then I grab her elbow and pull her back, landing a soft kiss on her left temple. "Night, Sam."

She lightly smacks my cheek a few times. "Night, Dork." Then, for good measure, she pushes me down to the floor, again.

"Seriously Sam?" I ask from the milk puddle.

"Calcium. Builds strong bones." And with that helpful fact, she's gone.

_Sam_...

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**Woohoo! Final chapter is over! Celebrate! Or don't if you are sad. D:  
But there's still the epilogue! **

**So...If you have a hear, you will leave a review! Or just review if you feel the need....I need some inspiration for the epilogue. I'm not sure when it will come. Things never turn out right when I make promises. Probably within the next two days. ****  
It was hard for me to come up with a title for the last real chapter, so I hope the name is satisfactory. This chapter was mainly about getting closure with a few characters (Nastalie, Coop, and Sonny...Fanokie. Heh). You guys will hopefully enjoy the epilogue. And you never know...maybe there will be a sequel...or maybe I will retire forever (but most likely not). **

**Okay thanks guys, seriously. The reviews have been great. Very interesting. Haha, and thanks for those of you who accepted Brad's challenge and gave me some flames. They were quite refreshing.**


	12. an epiloguish ending

**There will be enough at the end, but it just didn't look right leaving this blank…so…er…Enjoy, I guess.

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**

Hey guys. It's me, Freddie. And guess what I just got done doing. Hanging out in room 209 after hours. Yes, detention. But this isn't strange for me anymore. Since Sam and I started, uh, dating about a month ago, I've had eleven detentions. Eleven! That is quite a lot of a model student like myself. But, like I predicted, my life got _real_ interesting after I asked Sam to be my girlfriend. Oops. I forgot that I'm not aloud to say that. The forbidden 'G' word. Sam's not a big fan of mine when I let that one slip. In fact, that is how I received my detention last Friday. I accidentally told someone that Sam was my girlfriend, and the next thing I know her blonde furry has me pinned down on the floor, beating me senselessly. And when Coach Jeffreys heard the noise and stormed out of his room, Sam disappeared behind a corner. So I received the detention. Sam has an incredible sense for when a teacher is about to appear. And she tends to never share this sense, so I usually end up with the detentions. But this is fine. She's usually in there with me for some reason or another. I don't mind spending time with Sam. In fact, I enjoy it. Okay, I live for it. But she wasn't in detention today. So, I actually did _not _enjoy room 209 after hours. She didn't go to school either. She was faking sick because she didn't want to give her presentation in Speech. But she doesn't realize that her absence from school effects other people besides Mr. Martin.

"Why are you so blue today?" Carly asks. And no, this is not a pun. My skin has been completely blue-free for a few weeks now. Sam still occasionally calls me Ol' Blue though. The name kind of stuck, I guess. Better than Freddorkington.

"I don't know. Bad day." We are riding home on the bus together, a good few hours after school was let out. Again, I had detention, and Carly had another student council meeting. We are on our way to her place to begin planning the next iCarly. I'm hoping a certain someone is going to be there waiting for us.

"Bad day? Aww...that's so cute."

Carly and her all-knowingness gets incredibly irritating. "How is that cute?"

"Well, it's bad because Sam wasn't at school, right?"

I look out the smudged glass plane of the dirty window. "I guess." It's weird how not seeing one person for one day can completely throw your life off track. Today, I failed my Trigonometry test because I couldn't concentrate. I kept glancing up at the door, waiting for Sam to appear. She's usually strolling around the halls in second period because she has Biology at that time (seriously, what would Sam do in Biology?). It always makes my AP classes slightly more bearable when I can look forward to a smirk or mean face of some sort from Sam at some point in the class. But not today. And it completely threw me off. Failing this test is not going to be easy to bounce back from. But I should be used to it. All of my grades have dropped since Sam became my, er...my Sam. Don't get me wrong! I'm still the same Freddie Benson. I'm still at the top of our class, I just dropped down the list a few places. And I'm also an official detention regular. Mr. Martin asked me if I joined a gang. I told him it was much worse than that.

When we arrive, I find that I am running up the stairs to floor eight of our apartment building. The elevator just isn't fast enough. I burst through Carly's door, and my eyes desperately scan the room. She's asleep on the couch, remote in hand, covered in Fat Cake wrappers. I drop my bag and kiss her forehead. She mumbles something that sounds like "Dork," then begins snoring. She rolls over and sends Fat Cake wrappers everywhere. I smile as I move her legs over so I can sit down next to her. I know there are two other chairs in the room, but with her on the couch I can't imagine myself sitting anywhere else. She immediately stretches her legs back out. Her dirty sneakers are resting on my clean ironed pants. Mom wouldn't be too thrilled if she saw this. Well, Mom was never too thrilled with me lately.

_"Fredward Jerald Benson! Why on Earth is your skin blue?"_ The answer was easy. Just three letters. Sam.

_"Freddie! Why is there a skeleton in your bed?" _Again, Sam.

_"Fredward! Why is there milk spilled on the floor? You know how I feel about spilled milk!" _I could also answer Sam to this one, but I thought I'd avoid an awkward explanation and tell her it was an accident. And it was an accident. A very, _very_ pleasant accident.

_"Fredward Benson! Why do you have another detention?" _Sam.

_"Fredward Jerald Benson! Why are you giving Samantha Puckett access to your face?" _That was one of the more recent (and more awkward ones). Sam and I were, uh, saying 'goodnight', I guess, in the hall between 8C and 8D. And Mom happened to walk out at a bad time. That's when she finally found out about Sam and me. Not a fun conversation at the dinner table. _"What happened to Carly? You and Carly have so much more in common!" "Mom! I already told you. I got over Carly a long time ago." "Well, what about that Natalie girl. She was a real sweetheart." "Mom, I'm not going to dump Sam. So stop trying to come up with alternatives!" "But, Samantha is so...dangerous." _Trust me mom, I know.

So, Mom isn't a big fan of me dating Sam. She informed me once that it increases my chance of dying within the year by 57%. It's creepy that she took the time to figure this out, but I bet it's true. I'm probably suffering from internal bleeding as we speak. Sam and I hang out all the time now. So, naturally, she beats me a lot more. But I'm okay with it. It's quite fun to see her get angry. I mean, those little wrinkles on her nose! I could die for those little wrinkles. I smile down at the snoring Sam. She still smirks in her sleep.

A few seconds later, Carly comes in and takes in the scene of Sam and I sharing the couch. "No wonder you're in such a hurry." She checks the fridge. I just smile as she hands me a Pepi Cola. "So, how'd you get your detention this time?"

I take a swig of the cold pop. "PDA."

Carly snorts. "You mean, _public displays of affection, _PDA?"

"That is the only PDA I know of."

Carly snorts again. "But, Sam hardly let's you _look _at her in public! It was with Sam, right?"

"Well, yeah. Of course." I shake my head smiling at the memory. "And you're right, she never wants to act like a couple in public. But, then again, Sam is rather spontaneous." To put it nicely.

"How did it happen?"

"Well, I was talking to Greg by his locker about the next AV club meeting. I was explaining how to connect an RCA cable, and Sam was walking by at that time. All I said was _'simultaneously'_, and she practically tackled me into the lockers and was all over me." I laugh at the memory of the shocked look on Greg's face. "Then, Coach Jeffreys heard the commotion. He came out of his room right as Sam was slapping my face, saying something like, 'How dare you touch me Freddork!' Then I received my detention, and Coach Jeffrey's crash course on how to treat woman."

Carly is laughing so hard she's spraying Pepi Cola everywhere. "She does have a weird thing with that word. _Simultaneously_." She laughs again. "Wow. On behalf of my best friend, I am sorry you fell in love with her." I see the smirk on Sam's face grow a little wider. Oh, so she is just pretending to be asleep, again. Why does she always do this? I mean, is talking to people really _that _bad? I have an idea. I sly smile spread across my face.

"Hey Carly, what brand of ham was that in the fridge?"

Like I predicted, Sam immediately shoots up from the couch, and runs to the fridge. She whips the white door open desperately. She's found it. "Oh, sweet, _sweet_ ham!" She pulls the packaged ham out and hugs it tightly to her chest.

I shake my head. "Pathetic."

"Shut up, Fredweirdo!" She slams the ham down on the counter with her random aggressiveness. Carly and I exchange amused glances.

"So, is your mom, like, going to murder you yet," Carly asks me. Sam laughs out loud at this image.

"I hope not. Now that she's figured out that she can't control who I'm dating, she's going over board with the tick baths." Sam laughs at this as well. I'm glad my pain brings her joy. "I swear, I'm going to die of being _too_ clean!"

"So," Sam starts, "who are you talking about when you say 'dating'?"

"Uh, you."

She exhales, then shakes her head. "Since when are we dating?"

"Sam," Carly and I say together (simultaneously, but I'm afraid to use that word. It arouses strange emotions out of Sam).

I breath in slowly. "Sam, you realize that tomorrow is our one month anniversary, right?"

"Oh well." She shrugs as she tries to rip the air tight seal off the ham. "Who's counting?"

"Sam!" I know she is just trying to piss me off. And she is doing a superb job at it. She's had a lot of practice. I try not to let her get to me this time. "So, if we aren't dating, then what are we?"

She looks up from the ham thoughtfully. "Hmm...Fredqueer, have you ever heard of the term _friends with benefits_?"

"That's not funny Sam." I look away so she won't see how annoyed I am. She always does this; tries to tell me that we don't need each other. That this is just for fun or some little experiment of hers. But we both know the truth. She just insists on pushing my buttons. And, again, this is her area of expertise. I take a few deep breaths to calm down. I've learned that if I don't let her know she's winning, she'll give up eventually. "So, how was the day off?"

"Thuper Awthome!" She occasionally breaks out in bouts of speaking with a lisp. One of those many random actions you just have to get used to being with her. I've been doing a lot of adjusting this past month. Actually, the past five years is more accurate.

"That's good," Carly says. She's leaning back in her chair going through the colorful note cards of ideas for iCarly. She's always standing by listening to Sam and I bicker. She used to try to cut in and stop it before injuries occur, but now she usually just sits back with an amused look.

I watch Sam as she struggles to open the packaged ham. She's getting really angry. It's quite entertaining watching her tear and gnaw at the plastic, then get frustrated and slam it down on the counter, then start all over again. I watch her for a few minutes before I decide it's time to rescue the ham and the counter. I pull the scissors out of a drawer and sneak up behind Sam. I rest my chin on her shoulder, and wrap my arms around the front of her, revealing the orange cutting device in my hand.

"Ah." She plucks the scissors out of my hands. "I knew you were good for something." She pats my cheek a few times, which seems to be the only way she knows how to show affection, but I'll take it. She goes back to her ham, stabbing it violently with the scissors. With my hands still wrapped around her, I pull them away.

"Note to self; never let Sam use sharp objects." I carefully penetrate the plastic seal with one of the scissors' thin blades, then I cut open the package. "There you go Sammy." She quickly takes a bite of the ham, and sighs happily. It's like she hasn't eaten for three days. I laugh as I look over at the couch and see all of her Fat Cake wrappers. Sam is interesting.

I hug her from behind once, then turn to the couch to help Carly clean up her mess. Our most frequent activity together, cleaning up after our aggressive best friend. But Sam catches my arm and pulls me back into her. She turns around, wrapping her arms around my neck, and kissing me hastily. Then she pushes me away. Carly is still considered part the general public to her. I smile and shrug, "Simultaneously?"

"Not this time, Lord Dorkio." But she does peck my lips again before she shoves me out of the kitchen.

I whisper, "I love you, Sam."

She stuffs a piece of ham into her mouth to hide her smile. "Whatever Dork." This is the only reply I ever get when I tell her I love her. Ever. Period. _Whatever Dork._ That's it. But you know what, I'm okay with this too. I think this insult may have more meaning than she let's on.

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It's about two o'clock in the morning. Carly is asleep on the couch. Spencer is in his room. I am staring into the refrigerator, again. Maybe if I watch it long enough, another ham will appear. _Stupid ham, always gone so quickly!_ Aha! I see the remains of one of my older ham sandwiches behind the milk. _I'm sorry ham. I didn't mean it, baby. _I sit on the counter and thoroughly enjoy the next two minutes I spend with my sandwich. But then it's gone. It's over. I look down at the empty plate. There are no crumbs. _Ha! Me, Sam Puckett, leave crumbs? Pssht. Unheard of._ With the absence of food, there's nothing I want to do but sleep. But I can't get comfortable in Carly's bed. I hate fluffy and pink...then combine the two...yikes. So, I figure that the next best thing after ham and sleep is probably the Dork. Okay, maybe he is a little better than sleep. Better than ham? That's pushing it. Well...hmm..._ham_. Dork. Ham. I do like ham. I really, _really _like ham. But, I think...maybe, I might love the Dork. Urgh. What's wrong with me? Freddo being better than ham? Have I completely cracked? Maybe I just came to my senses...no. I've cracked.

I walk sleepily across the hall and pick 8D's lock. Then I tiptoe past Crazy's room. Since Freddo and I started, uh, this thing (I guess), Crazy is even crazier. I know it sounds impossible. But she is all over Fredwardo about everything these days. And I know it's all because of me, and this makes me smile. Why do I love the fact that Freddington has to put up with so much pain to be with me? I have no idea. But I like it, and he likes doing it, so it all works out.

I quietly close the Nerd's door behind me. He's taking up the whole bed, laid out on his stomach in a giant 'x'. He even sleeps like a nerd. Well, maybe this isn't particularly nerdy, but come on! The kid's practically got nerd's disease oozing out of his ears. But it's okay, he's my nerd. I try to push him over. Dorkboy is just too heavy these days. I still beat the crap out of the little girl, but deep down I know he's letting me. Not great for my pride. I tuck my hands under his side and try scooting the giant tech-geek over again. He doesn't budge. I sigh as I look at my alternatives. The chair is all the way on the other side of the room. Urgh. I take the pillow he isn't drooling all over and set it on the back of his brown head. Then I take my place on his back, using him as my makeshift bed. _Ahh. That's better...nothing pink in sight. _We are laying back to back like this for awhile. I'm drifting off to sleep when he finally says, "Sam, why do you insist on using me as furniture?"

I smile. "Don't you like being useful?"

"Couldn't you find another way for me to be of use to you?"

"Hmm...nope."

"Didn't think so." He bounces me up and down as he fluffs his pillow.

"Settle down, Fredward. I was comfortable!"

"Oh, you're very welcome for letting you sneak into my house and use my back as a bed." I smirk. And the way I feel him go rigid, I bet he knows I'm doing it to. It's pretty creepy how the kid knows me so well. "And keep it down," he says. "I'll never hear the end of it if my mom comes in here right now."

I settle into his warm back again. "Whatever Dork."

I feel him sigh. "I love you too, Sam." _So he's finally caught on._ I reach back and lightly smack his cheek. _Good for Dorkboy._

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**I think the 'simultaneously' thing is from **_pirates prevail_**, so if that seems completely random to you...yeah...it's not _that_ random.**

**Alrighty...this is sad...it's over. Now I have to go back to reality. Aw. D: I'm not satisfied with this. It had a good plot, I just wish I would have had more time to write the thing with a little more flow. I've been really busy tho, and this was just kind of random...I just started writing it on day when I was bored. So thank you guys for actually reading it.  
So, I really hope you guys liked the ending. Endings are hard to write! My next project is going to be a string of one-shots that kind of tells about Sam and Freddo's life from the time they were kids to when they're grown. But, to make it a little different, it's completely in Spencer's PoV, and every shot takes place on the Shay's couch. And some of the scenes are going to tie into this story. Heh. It'll be fun. Oh, and possible sequel to this story...undecided at this point.  
**

**Okay, well please leave a review. I would really like to hear your favorite scenes, lines, chapters, characters, etc. Did you like Fred's or Sam's PoV better?  
My personal favorite chapter was **_the list_** because it was different and fun to write. And it kind of begins the whole process of Sam and Freddie growing so used to each other, that they kind of need each other (which is the whole premises of the handcuffs...you kind of need to read between the lines for that one). And my favorite line has to be "And the Easter Bunny can burn in the fiery abyss of hell for all scissors cares!"-Sam, **_birthday surprises_**_. _And my favorite scene type thing...hmm...probably when Sam sets up the awkward situation for Freddie with Natalie when he has to tell her that he can't go out with her from **_proclamations are so lame_. **I don't know, that one was just funny.  
**

**So seriously, tell me your favorite stuff. I would really like to know. And, also your least favorite stuff would be cool. Tell me anything. Tell me what you ate for breakfast. Whatever. Anyways...I am maybe taking one-shot requests...so if you have any ideas...that would be cool. **

**And, lastly, I have to thank all of my regular reviewers. Thank you guys. I would name you all out, but I'm trying to hurry up and post this (so excuse errors, i will fix em' soon). You guys seriously kept me going with your reviews. So really, thank you. **

**So...this is it...I guess...wow...I'm going to crawl in a dark hole now.  
So please leave a review. Come on...just click that little green button you've been eying and delve into it's white boxed abyss....it'll be super fun.  
**

**Thanks guys,  
Angie**


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